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THE   WORKS 


EPICTETUS. 

CONSISTING  OF 

HIS   DISCOURSES,  IN   FOUR  BOOKS,  THE  EN- 
CHIRIDION, AND  FRAGMENTS. 

A     TRANSLATION  FROM   THE   GREEK 

BASED  ON  THAT  OF 

ELIZABETH    CARTER, 

BY 

THOMAS    WENTWORTH    HIGGINSON. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    AND    COMPANY. 

1866. 


IOAN  STACK 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1805,  by 
LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND   COMPANY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press  :  Welch,  Bicelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


PREFACE 


ELIZABETH  CARTER'S  version  of  Epictetus  has 
outlived  every  English  prose  translation  of  its 
day,  and  has  admirably  held  its  ground  with  read- 
ers. While  Marcus  Aurelius  has  had  a  series  of 
English  versions,  the  complete  works  of  Epictetus 
have  had  but  this  one,  reproduced  in  four  different 
editions.  Even  of  the  "  Enchiridion,' '  or  Manual,  of 
which  there  had  been  at  least  five  different  versions 
in  England,  before  her  time,  —  two  of  which  had 
passed  respectively  through  six  editions,  —  I  am 
not  aware  that  any  later  translation  has  there  been 
printed.  And  the  main  reason  unquestionably  is, 
that  there  was  absolutely  no  work  done,  at  that  date, 
of  so  good  a  quality. 

Thomas  Taylor  indeed  grudgingly  says  that  this 
translation  "  is  as  good  as  a  person  ignorant  of  phi- 
losophy can  be  supposed  to  make."  *  But  the  philos- 
ophy of  Epictetus  was  altogether  of  the  practical  sort, 
and  quite  unlike  those  cloudy  regions  of  Proclus  and 
Plotinus  in  which  Thomas  Taylor  loved  to  wander. 
Whatever  it  was,  Elizabeth  Carter  understood  it,  and 
rendered  it  almost  too  technically ;  and  if  she  knew 

*  See  his  translation  of  Aristotle's  Nicomachean  Ethics,  B.  III. 
c.  3,  note. 


131 


IV  PREFACE. 

less  of  philosophy  than  "  the  Platonist,"  she  knew 
Greek  a  great  deal  better.  There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  she  was,  as  her  friend  Dr.  Johnson  de- 
clared, the  best  Greek  scholar  in  England  of  her 
day.  She  certainly  surpassed  the  contemporary  Latin 
translator,  Upton,  whose  edition  of  Epictetus  was 
deservedly  the  standard  one,  until  that  of  Schweig- 
hauser ;  and  I  have  rarely  examined  a  point  disputed 
between  her  and  Schweighauser,  without  siding  with 
her  at  last.  After  saying  this,  it  is  no  great  stretch 
of  humility  to  admit  my  own  inferiority,  and  to  claim 
only  the  advantage  of  writing  more  than  a  century 
later,  and  hence  with  more  side-lights  and  a  more 
modern  style. 

I  hesitated  for  some  time,  whether  to  call  this  book 
simply  a  revision  of  Elizabeth  Carter's  translation,  or 
a  new  one  based  on  hers.  The  latter  alternative  was 
finally  chosen,  less  in  order  to  claim  for  myself  any 
credit  of  hers,  than  to  save  her  from  sharing  any  dis- 
credit of  mine.  The  enterprise  was  begun  simply 
as  a  revision.  But  to  revise  any  translation  made  a 
century  ago,  is  like  underrunning  a  telegraphic  ca- 
ble :  one  may  inspect  a  good  deal  of  it,  and  find  but 
trifling  repairs  needful ;  and  then  one  may  come  to 
a  point  where  a  wholly  new  piece  must  go  in.  These 
Substitutions  multiplied  so  rapidly,  —  and  even  where 
the  changes  were  slight,  they  touched  words  and 
phrases  so  vital,  —  that  the  name  I  have  chosen  is 
really  the  least  dishonest  that  could  be  given.  After 
all,  it  shows  the  thoroughness  of  Elizabeth  Carter's 


PREFACE.  V 

work,  that  this  process  of  "  underrunning  "  was  practi- 
cable at  all.  With  the  loose,  dashing,  piquant  school 
of  translators  who  preceded  her  in  that  century,  as 
L'Estrange  and  Collier,  such  an  attempt  would  have 
been  absurdity.  They  are  very  racy  reading,  —  in- 
deed, a  capital  study  for  coarse,  colloquial  English, — 
but  there  is  no  foundation  of  accuracy  in  them.  Yet 
the  style  of  Epictetus  has  a  concise  and  even  delicate 
precision  which  no  language  but  Greek  could  per- 
haps attain ;  and  to  do  justice  to  this  without  loss 
of  popular  intelligibility  requires  all  Elizabeth  Car- 
ter's faithfulness,  combined  with  an  amount  of  purely 
literary  effort  which  she  did  not  always  make.  She 
apologizes,  in  her  letters,  for  "the  uncouthness,  in 
many  places,  of  a  version  pretty  strictly  literal." 
If  she  erred  on  this  side,  perhaps  I  have  erred  in 
allowing  myself  a  terminology,  not  more  diffuse  than 
hers,  but  more  pliant  and  varied.  But  after  all, 
unless  a  new  English  version  is  to  be  popularized, 
there  seems  no  use  in  making  it  at  all. 

Epictetus  limits  himself  strictly  to  giving  a  code 
of  practical  ethics.  Not  ignoring  metaphysics  in 
their  proper  place,  he  directs  his  aims  elsewhere. 
His  essential  principles  are  very  simple.  All  things 
(he  holds)  receive  their  character  from  our  judg- 
ment concerning  them;  all  objects,  all  events,  are 
merely  semblances  or  phenomena,  to  be  interpreted 
according  to  the  laws  which  nature  gives  us.  An 
obvious  classification  at  once  occurs ;  all  things  are 
either  controllable  by  will,  or  uncontrollable.     If 


VI  PREFACE. 

t 

controllable,  we  may  properly  exert  towards  them 
our  desire  or  aversion,  though  always  guardedly  and 
moderately.  If  uncontrollable,  they  are  nothing  to 
us,  and  we  are  merely  to  acquiesce,  not  with  resig- 
nation alone,  but  joyously,  knowing  that  an  all-wise 
Father  rules  the  whole.*  All  success  comes,  accord- 
ing to  Epictetus,  from  obedience  to  this  rule  ;  all  fail- 
ure proceeds  from  putting  a  false  estimate  on  the 
phenomena  of  existence,  from  trying  to  control  what 
is  uncontrollable,  or  from  neglecting  what  is  within 
our  power.  "  Two  rules  we  should  have  always 
ready,  —  that  there  is  nothing  good  or  evil  save  in 
the  Will;  and,  that  we  are  not  to  lead  events,  but 
to  follow  them."  (p.  221.)  This  last  is  singularly 
identical  with  the  wise  Quaker  motto,  on  which  Eliz- 
abeth Fry  based  her  remarkable  practical  successes, 
"  to  follow,  not  force,  Providence." 

These  simple  principles  are  developed  pithily  in 
the  "  Enchiridion  "  or  Manual,  and  more  elaborately 
in  the  Discourses.  Neither  work  was  written  by 
Epictetus,  but  both  were  taken  down  from  his  lips. 
The  "  Enchiridion  "  was  made  the  subject,  in  the  sixth 
century,  of  an  elaborate  Greek  Commentary  by  Sim- 
plicius,  which  was  translated  into  English  by  Stan- 
hope, and  was  again  made  the  text  for  a  commentary 
longer  than  itself  by  Milton's  adversary,  Salmasius. 

There  is  no  stain  upon  the  consistent  nobleness  of 
these  Discourses.  One  can  point  out  some  omissions, 
some  points  where  our  subtle  human  organization 

*  Compare  pages  12,  22,  29,  40,  44,  147,  255,  265,  288,  etc. 


PREFACE.  .  Vii 

eludes  the  simple  system  of  Epictetus.  But  all 
which  is  here  is  noble.  All  the  common  complaints 
against  the  Stoic  philosophy,  —  all  charges  of  arro- 
gance, uncharitableness,  cold  isolation,  approval  of 
suicide,  —  are  refuted  altogether  by  his  clear  state- 
ments. "  What  is  the  first  business  of  one  who  stud- 
ies philosophy  ?  To  part  with  self-conceit.,,  (p.  148.) 
"  That  we  ought  not  to  be  angry  with  the  erring," 
forms  the  subject  of  a  special  chapter,  (p.  54.)  "  All 
is  full  of  beloved  ones  ....  by  nature  endeared  to 
each  other."  (p.  266.)  "  Who  is  there  whom  bright 
and  agreeable  children  do  not  attract  to  play  and 
creep  and  prattle  with  them  ?  "  (p.  185.)  The  phi- 
losopher, "  when  beaten,  must  love  those  who  beat 
him."  (p.  250.)  As  to  suicide,  there  is  a  special 
argument  against  it.  (p.  30.)  In  other  places  he  al- 
ludes to  it  ironically,  in  a  sort  of  contempt ;  or  vindi- 
cates Providence  by  showing  that  we  are  not  coerced 
even  into  living  on  earth,  if  we  do  not  desire,  but  even 
in  this  last  resort,  our  will  is  free.  He  also  implies, 
more  than  once,  that  suicide,  which  is  the  cowardice 
of  a  moment,  is  after  all  less  blasphemous  than  the  set- 
tled habit  of  faithless  complaint.  For  this  querulous- 
ness  is  what  rouses  beyond  all  things  his  indignation. 
In  his  practical  examples,  he  constantly  recurs  to 
the  noblest  traits  of  his  famous  predecessors,  —  as 
Socrates,  Diogenes,  and  Zeno  ;  and  he  also  gives  us 
glimpses  of  the  finest  characters,  whose  names  are 
else  unfamiliar,  —  as  Rufus  and  Euphrates.  Indeed, 
all  his  standards  are  practical ;  he  denounces,  satir- 


Viii  ,  PREFACE. 

izes,  and  riddles  through  and  through  all  pretenders 
to  philosophy,  all  mere  logicians  or  rhapsodists  ;  and 
brings  all  to  the  test  of  practical  righteousness.  In- 
deed, it  is  a  favorite  suggestion  of  his,  that  no  man 
should  ever  profess  to  be  a  philosopher,  but  that 
each  should  leave  this  character  to  be  inferred  from 
his  actions.  "  It  is  not  reasonings  that  are  wanted 
now,"  he  says,  "  for  there  are  books  stuffed  full  of 
stoical  reasonings.  What  is  wanted,  then  ?  The  man 
who  shall  apply  them ;  whose  actions  may  bear  testi- 
mony to  his  doctrines.  Assume  this  character  for 
me,  that  we  may  no  longer  make  use  in  the  schools 
of  the  examples  of  the  ancients,  but  may  have  some 
examples  of  our  own."  (p.  90.) 

So  far  as  the  scanty  record  goes,  and  the  testi- 
mony of  contemporaries,  Epictetus  was  himself  such 
a  man.  He  was  probably  born  at  Hierapolis  in 
Phrygia,  and  he  lived  at  Rome,  in  the  first  century  of 
our  era,  as  the  slave  of  Epaphroditus,  a  freedman  of 
Nero.  Origen  preserves  an  anecdote  of  Epictetus,  that 
when  his  master  once  put  his  leg  in  the  torture,  his 
philosophic  slave  quietly  remarked,  "  You  will  break 
my  leg " ;  and  when  this  presently  happened,  he 
added,  in  the  same  tone,  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  so  ? " 
He  afterwards  became  free,  and  lived  very  frugally  at 
Rome,  teaching  philosophy.  Simplicius  says  that  the 
whole  furniture  of  his  house  consisted  of  a  bed,  a 
cooking-vessel,  and  an  earthen  lamp  ;  and  Lucian 
ridicules  a  man  who  bought  the  latter,  after  his 
death,  in  hopes  to  become  a  philosopher  by  using  iL 


PREFACE.  IX 

When  Domitian  banished  the  philosophers  from 
Rome,  Epictetus  retired  to  Nicopolis,  a  city  of  Epi- 
rus,  where  he  taught  as  before.  He  still  lived  in 
the  same  frugal  way,  his  only  companions  being  a 
young  child,  whom  he  adopted,  in  the  later  years 
of  his  life,  because  its  parents  abandoned  it,  and  a 
woman  whom  he  employed  as  its  nurse.  He  suffered 
from  extreme  lameness,  and,  according  to  his  contem- 
porary, Aulus  Gellius,  composed  a  couplet  to  proclaim 
his  gratitude  to  the  Gods,  in  spite  of  these  misfor- 
tunes. "  Epictetus,  a  slave,  maimed  in  body,  an 
Irus.  in  poverty,  and  favored  by  the  Immortals."*^ 
After  Hadrian  became  Emperor  (A.  D.  117),  Epic- 
tetus was  treated  with  favor,  but  probably  did  not 
return  to  Rome.  In  these  later  years  of  his  life,  his 
discourses  were  written  down  by  his  disciple  Arrian, 
a  man  of  the  highest  character,  both  as  a  philosopher 
and  as  an  historian.  But  four  of  the  original  eight 
books  remain.  The  date  of  Epictetus's  death  is  en- 
tirely unknown. 

Marcus  Aurelius  ranked  this  philosopher  with  Soc- 
rates, and  Origen  thought  that  his  writings  had  done 
more  good  than  those  of  Plato.  In  modern  times, 
Niebuhr  has  said  of  him,  "  Epictetus's  greatness  can- 
not be  questioned,  and  it  is  impossible  for  any  person 
of  sound  mind  not  to  be  charmed  by  his  works." 
I  am  acquainted  with  no  book  more  replete  with  high 

*  Aulus  Gellius,  Noctes  Attica?,  B.  II.  c.  18.  Salmasius,  however, 
doubts  the  genuineness  of  this  passage.  (Com.,  ed.  1640,  p.  3.)  The 
same  epigram  has  been  attributed  to  Leonidas  of  Tarentum. 


X  PREFACE. 

conceptions  of  the  Deity,  and  noble  aims  for  man ; 
nor  do  I  know  any  in  which  the  inevitable  laws  of 
retribution  are  more  grandly  stated,  with  less  of 
merely  childish  bribery  or  threatening.  It  is  pa- 
thetic to  see  good  Mrs.  Carter  apologizing  for  this 
elevation  of  thought  as  if  it  were  a  weakness,  and  to 
find  Merivale  censuring  it  as  "a  low  and  popular 
view  "  to  represent  vice  as  its  own  punishment  and 
virtue  as  its  own  reward.  It  is  not,  however,  my  ob- 
ject to  vindicate  these  plain  principles,  but  to  let 
them  speak  for  themselves,  with  as  much  as  possible 
pf  their  original  clearness. 

It  has  not  seemed  to  me  strange,  but  very  natural, 
to  pass  from  camp  life  to  the  study  of  Epictetus. 
Where  should  a  student  find  contentment  in  enforced 
withdrawal  from  active  service,  if  not  in  "  the  still 
air  of  delightful  studies  "  ?  There  seemed  a  special 
appropriateness,  also,  in  coming  to  this  work  from  a 
camp  of  colored  soldiers,  whose  great  exemplar, 
Toussaint  l'Ouverture,  made  the  works  of  this  his 
fellow-slave  a  favorite  manual.  Moreover,  the  return 
of  peace  seems  a  fitting  time  to  call  anew  the  public 
attention  to  those  eternal  principles  on  which  alone 
true  prosperity  is  based ;  and,  in  a  period  of  increas- 
ing religious  toleration,  to  revive  the  voice  of  one 
who  bore  witness  to  the  highest  spiritual  truths,  ere 
the  present  sects  were  born. 

T.  W.  H. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


THE   DISCOURSES. 

Pag« 
Abbian  to  Lucius  Gellius 1 


BOOK   I. 

Chapter 

I.   Of  the  Things  which  are,  and  the  Things  which  are  not, 

in  our  own  Power          ......  3 

LT.    In  what  Manner,  upon  every  Occasion,  to  preserve  our 

Character 7 

III.  How,  from  the  Doctrine  that  God  is  the  Father  of  Man- 

kind, we  may  proceed  to  its  Consequences        .         .12 

IV.  Of  Progress 13 

V.   Concerning  the  Academics 17 

VI.    Of  Providence 18 

VII.    Of  the  Use  of  the  Forms  of  Right  Reasoning       .         .  23 

VIII.    That  Logical  Subtleties  are  not  safe  to  the  Uninstructed  27 
IX.    How,  from  the  Doctrine  of  our  Relationship  to  God,  we 

are  to  deduce  its  Consequences         .         .         .         .28 

X.    Concerning  those  who  seek  Preferment  at  Rome       .  33 

XI.    Of  Natural  Affection 34 

XH.    Of  Contentment 40 

XIII.  How  Everything  may  be  performed  to  the  Divine  Ac- 

ceptance          44 

XIV.  That  all  Things  are  under  the  Divine  Supervision    .  45 
XV.    What  Philosophy  promises 47 

XVI.    Of  Providence 48 

XVII.    That  the  Art  of  Reasoning  is  necessary       .         .         .51 

XVHX    That  we  ought  not  to  be  Angry  with  the  Erring       .  54 

XIX.    Of  the  right  Treatment  of  Tyrants      ....  57 

XX.   In  what  Manner  Reason  contemplates  itself    .         .  61 

XXI.    Of  the  Desire  of  Admiration 63 


Xll  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

XXII.    Of  General  Principles 64 

XXIII.  Against  Epicurus 66 

XXIV.  How  we  ought  to  struggle  with  Difficulties    .         .  67 
XXV.    On  the  same  Subject 70 

XXVI.    What  the  Rule  of  Life  is 74 

XXVII.    Of  the  varied  Appearances  of  Things  to  the  Mind,  and 

what  Means  are  at  Hand  by  which  to  regulate  them  76 
XXVIII.    That  we  ought  not  to  be  Angry  with  Mankind.    What 

Things  are  little,  what  great,  among  Men      .         .  79 

XXLX.    Of  Courage 83 

XXX.    Weapons  ready  for  difficult  Occasions       .         .         .91 

BOOK    II 

I.    That  Courage  is  not  inconsistent  with  Caution          .  93 

H.    Of  Tranquillity 98 

III.  Concerning  such  as  recommend  Persons  to  the  Philos- 

ophers       ........  101 

IV.  Concerning  a  Man  who  had  been  guilty  of  Adultery  102 
V.    How  Nobleness  of  Mind  may  be  consistent  with  Pru- 
dence            104 

VI.    Of  Circumstances 108 

VTL    Of  Divination Ill 

VIII.    Wherein  consists  the  Essence  of  Good  ,         .         .  113 
IX.    That  some  Persons,  failing  to  fulfil  what  the  Character 

of  a  Man  implies,  assume  that  of  a  Philosopher      .  117 
X.  How  we  may  infer  the  Duties  of  Life  from  its  nominal 

Functions 120 

XI.    The  Beginning  of  Philosopny      .         ,         .         .124 

XII.,  Of  Disputation       . 127 

XIH.    Of  Anxiety .130 

XIV.    Concerning  Naso 135 

XV.    Concerning  those  who  obstinately  persist  in  whatever 

they  have  determined 139 

XVI.    That  we  do  not  study  to  make  use  of  the  established 

Principles  concerning  Good  and  Evil    .         .         .  141 

XVH.    How  to  apply  General  Principles  to  Particular  Cases  148 

XVIII.    How  the  Semblances  of  Things  are  to  be  combated   .  153 
XIX.    Concerning   those  who  embrace  Philosophy  only  in 

Words 157 

XX.    Concerning  the  Epicureans  and  Academics       .         .  162 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  xiii 

XXI.  Of  Inconsistency 168 

XXII.  Of  Friendship        ....  171 

XXIII.  Of  Eloquence    .         .         .         .  .         .         .177 

XXIV.  Concerning  a  Person  whom  he  treated  with  Disregard     183 
XXV.  That  Logic  is  necessary      .         .         .     •    .         .         .188 

XXVI.    What  is  the  Test  of  Error 188 

BOOK    III. 

I.    Of  Personal  Adornment 190 

II.    In  what  a  well- trained  Man  should  exercise  himself; 

and  that  we  neglect  the  principal  Things      .         .        197 

III.  What  is  the  chief  Concern  of  a  good  Man  ;  and  in  what 

we  chiefly  ought  to  train  ourselves  .         .         .   200 

IV.  Concerning  one  who  made  himself  improperly  conspicu- 

ous in  the  Theatre 203 

V.    Concerning  those  who  plead  Sickness       .         .         .  205 

VI.   Miscellaneous 207 

VII.    Concerning  a  certain  Governor  who  was  an  Epicurean  209 
VIII.   How  we  are  to  exercise  ourselves  against  the  Sem- 
blances of  Things 214 

LX.    Concerning  a  certain  Orator  who  was  going  to  Rome  on 

a  Lawsuit      ........  215 

X.   In  what  Manner  we  ought  to  bear  Sickness      .         .  218 

XL   Miscellaneous 221 

XII.    Of  Training 222 

XIII.  What  Solitude  is ;  and  what  a  Solitary  Person    .         .  22& 

XIV.  Miscellaneous 228 

XV.    That  Everything  is  to  be  undertaken  with  Circumspec- 
tion        230 

XVI.    That  Caution  should  be  used  as  to  personal  Familiarity   232 

XVII.    Of  Providence -.234 

XVIII.    That  we  ought  not  to  be  alarmed  by  any  News  that  is 

brought  us 235 

XIX.   What  is  the  comparative  Condition  of  the  Philosopher 

and  of  the  Crowd 236 

XX.    That  some  Advantage  may  be  gained  from  every  out- 
ward Circumstance         .         .         .         .         .         .237 

XXI.    Concerning  those  who  readily  set  up  for  Sophists     .        240 

XXII.    Of  the  Cynic  Philosophy 243 

XXIII.    Concerning  such  as  read  or  dispute  ostentatiously    .        259 


XIV  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

XXIV.    That  we  ought  not  to  be  affected  by  Things  not  in  our 

own  Power 265 

XXV.    Concerning  those  who  waver  in  their  Purpose  .         .  282 

XXVI.    Concerning  those  who  are  in  dread  of  Want         .         .  284 

BOOK    IV. 

I.  Of  Freedom 291 

II.  Of  Complaisance 317 

III.  What  Things  are  to  be  exchanged  for  Others       .         .  318 

IV.  Concerning  those  who  earnestly  desire  a  Life  of  Repose  320 
V.  Concerning  the  Quarrelsome  and  Ferocious          .         .  327 

VI.  Concerning  those  who  are  annoyed  at  being  pitied    .        333 

VII.  Of  Fearlessness 339 

VIII.  Concerning  such  as  hastily  assume  the  philosophic  Dress   346 

IX.  Concerning  a  Person  who  had  grown  immodest   .         .   352 

X.  What  Things  we  are  to  despise,  and  what  chiefly  to  value  355 

XI.  Of  Purity .         .         .360 

XII.  Of  taking  Pains 365 

XIII.  Concerning  such  as  are  too  Communicative  .         .  368 


THE  ENCHIRIDION :        .  373 

FRAGMENTS 401 

INDEX .         .435 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    CONSULTED. 


[For  the  Complete  Works.] 

1.  Epicteti  quae  supersunt  Dissertationes  ab  Arriano  collect®, 
....  illustravit  Joannes  Uptonus,  Praebend.  Rossensis.  Londini, 
1741.     2  vols.  8vo. 

2.  Epicteti  Dissertationum  libri  iv post  J.  Uptoni  aliorum- 

que  curas,  edidit  J.  Schweighauser.     Lipsiae,  1799,  1800.     5  vols,  in 
6.     8vo. 

3.  The  Works  of  Epictetus,  ....  translated  from  the  original 

Greek,  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Carter London,  1758.     4to.     [2d 

ed.,  2   vols.,  12mo,  1759.     3d   ed.,  2  vols.,  12mo,  1768.     4th   ed., 
2  vols.,  8vo,  1804.] 

4 Epicteti  Dissertationes  ab  Arriani  Uteris  mandatae 

[Didot,  Bib.  Graec]     Parisiis,  1840.     8vo. 


[For  the  Enchiridion.] 

5.  Simplicii  Commentarius  in  Enchiridion  Epicteti,  ....  cum 

versione   Hier.   Wolfii   et   CI.    Salmasii    animadversionibus 

Lugduni  Batavorum,  1640.     4to. 

6.  The  most  excellent  Morals  of  Epictetus  made  English  in  a  Poet- 
ical Paraphrase,  by  Ellis  Walker,  M.  A.  London,  1692.  12mo. 
[Also,  London,  1697,  1701,  1709,  1716,  1732;  Boston,  Mass.,  1863, 
from  the  edition  of  1716.  The  two  latter  are  those  which  I  have 
seen.] 

7.  Epictetus,  his  Morals,  with  Simplicius,  his  Commentary.     Made 

English  from  the  Greek  by  George  Stanhope London,  1694. 

12mo.     [Also,  London,  1700,  1704,  1721,  1741,  1750.] 

8.  Epicteti  Manuale Greece  et  Latine  in  usum  tyronum 

accommodati illustravit  Joseph   Simpson.     Editio    Quarta. 

Londini,  1758.     8vo. 

9.  Epicteti  Enchiridion   Graece  et  Latine   ....   curavit  Chr. 


XVI  LIST  OF  BOOKS   CONSULTED. 

Gottl.  Heyne.     Altera  Editio.     Varsaviae,  1776.     18mo.     [A  previ- 
ous edition  at  Dresden,  1756.] 

10.  Manuale  di  Epicteto  ....  secondo  la  Versione  del  Rev. 
Padre  Pagnini.  [Opere  di  G.  D.  Romagnosi.  Vol.  I.  Part  2.] 
Milano,  1844.     8vo. 


[The  following  English  versions  I  find  mentioned  in  Adam  Clarke's 
"  Account  of  English  Translations  of  Greek  and  Roman  Classics." 
London,  1806  ;  —  but  I  have  not  met  with  them. 

1.  The  Manual  of  Epictetus,  translated  out  of  Greek  into  French, 
and  now  into  English,  compared  with  two  Latin  translations,  .... 
by  Jas.  Sandford.     London,  1567.     8vo. 

2.  The  Life  and  Philosophy  of  Epictetus  ....  rendered  into 
English  by  John  Davies.     London,  1670.     8vo. 

3.  The  Manual  of  Epictetus  the  Philosopher,  translated  from  the 
original  Greek  by  Wm.  Bond.     London,  1730.     12mo. 

Ellis  Walker,  in  his  preliminary  life  of  Epictetus,  speaks  of  still 
another  English  translation,  by  Healey ;  also  of  French  versions  by 
Du  Vair  and  Boileau.  There  is  also  a  critical  edition  of  the  Enchi- 
ridion, by  Coray,  with  a  French  translation  (Paris,  1826),  which  I 
have  not  seen.] 


THE 


DISCOURSES    OF    EPICTETTJS 


AERIAN  TO  LUCIUS  GELLIUS 

WISHETH  ALL  HAPPINESS. 

I  NEITHER  composed  the  Discourses  of  Epictetus 
in  such  a  manner  as  things  of  this  nature  are 
commonly  composed,  nor  did  I  myself  produce  them 
to  public  view,  any  more  than  I  composed  them. 
But  whatever  sentiments  I  heard  from  his  own 
mouth,  the  very  same  I  endeavored  to  set  down  in 
the  very  same  words,  so  far  as  possible,  and  to  pre- 
serve as  memorials  for  my  own  use,  of  his  manner 
of  thinking,  and  freedom  of  speech. 

These  Discourses  are  such  as  one  person  would 
naturally  deliver  from  his  own  thoughts,  extempore , 
to  another ;  not  such  as  he  would  prepare  to  be  read 
by  numbers  afterwards.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this,  I 
cannot  tell  how,  without  either  my  consent  or  knowl- 
edge, they  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  public. 
But  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  me,  if  I  do  not  ap- 
pear an  able  writer,  and  of  none  to  Epictetus,  if  any 
one  treats  his  Discourses  with  contempt ;  since  it  was 
very  evident,  even  when  he  uttered  them,  that  he 
aimed  at  nothing  more  than  to  excite  his  hearers  to 
virtue.     If  they  produce  that  one  effect,  they  have  in 


2  AREIAN  TO  LUCIUS  GELLIUS 

them  what,  I  think,  philosophical  discourses  ought 
to  have.  And  should  they  fail  of  it,  let  the  readers 
however  be  assured,  that  when  Epictetus  himself 
pronounced  them,  his  audience  could  not  help  being 
affected  in  the  very  manner  he  intended  they  should. 
If  by  themselves  they  have  less  efficacy,  perhaps  it  is 
my  fault,  or  perhaps  it  is  unavoidable. 

Farewell. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPIOTETUS. 


BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER  I. 


OP   THE   THINGS    WHICH    ARE,    AND    THE    THINGS    WHICH 
ABE   NOT    IN   OUR    OWN   POWER. 

OF  other  faculties,  you  will  find  no  one  that  con- 
templates, and  consequently  approves  or  disap- 
proves itself.  How  far  does  the  proper  sphere  of 
grammar  extend?  As  far  as  the  judging  of  lan- 
guage. Of  music  ?  As  far  as  the  judging  of  melody. 
Does  either  of  them  contemplate  itself,  then  ?  By  no 
means. 

Thus,  for  instance,  when  you  are  to  write  to  your 
friend,  grammar  will  tell  you  what  to  write;  but 
whether  you  are  to  write  to  your  friend  at  all,  or  no, 
grammar  will  not  tell  you.  Thus  music,  with  regard 
to  tunes ;  but  whether  it  be  proper  or  improper,  at 
any  particular  time,  to  sing  or  play,  music  will  not 
tell  you. 

What  will  tell,  then  ? 

That  which  contemplates  both  itself  and  all  other 
things. 

And  what  is  that  ? 

The  Reasoning  Faculty ;  for  that  alone  is  found  to 
consider  both  itself,  its  powers,  its  value,  and  like- 


4  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

wise  all  the  rest.  For  what  is  it  else  that  says,  gold 
is  beautiful ;  for  the  gold  itself  does  not  speak  ?  Evi- 
dently that  faculty,  which  judges  of  the  appearances 
of  things.  What  else  distinguishes  music,  grammar, 
the  other  faculties,  proves  their  uses,  and  shows  their 
proper  occasions  ? 

Nothing  but  this. 

As  it  was  fit  then,  this  most  excellent  and  superior 
faculty  alone,  a  right  use  of  the  appearances  of  things, 
the  gods  have  placed  in  our  own  power ;  but  all  other 
matters,  they  have  not  placed  in  our  power.  What, 
was  it  because  they  would  not  ?  I  rather  think,  that 
if  they  could,  they  had  granted  us  these  too;  but 
they  certainly  could  not.  For,  placed  upon  earth, 
and  confined  to  such  a  body,  and  to  such  compan- 
ions, how  was  it  possible  that,  in  these  respects,  we 
should  not  be  hindered  by  things  without  us  ? 

But  what  says  Zeus  ?  "  0  Epictetus,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, I  had  made  this  little  body  and  property  of 
thine  free,  and  not  liable  to  hindrance.  But  now  do 
not  mistake :  it  is  not  thy  own,  but  only  a  finer  mix- 
ture of  clay.  Since,  then,  I  could  not  give  thee  this, 
I  have  given  thee  a  certain  portion  of  myself;  this 
faculty  of  exerting  the  powers  of  pursuit  and  avoid- 
ance, of  desire  and  aversion,  and,  in  a  word,  the  use 
of  the  appearances  of  things.  Taking  care  of  this 
point,  and  making  what  is  thy  own  to  consist  in  this, 
thou  wilt  never  be  restrained,  never  be  hindered; 
thou  wilt  not  groan,  wilt  not  complain,  wilt  not  flat- 
ter any  one.  How,  then!  Do  all  these  advantages 
seem  small  to  thee  ?  Heaven  forbid !  Let  them  suf- 
fice thee  then,  and  thank  the  gods." 

But  now,  when  it  is  in  our  power  to  take  care  of 
one  thing,  and  to  apply  to  one,  we  choose  rather  to 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  5 

take  care  of  many,  and  to  encumber  ourselves  with 
many;  body,  property,  brother,  friend,  child,  and 
slave  ;  and,  by  this  multiplicity  of  encumbrances,  we 
are  burdened  and  weighed  down.  Thus,  when  the 
weather  doth  not  happen  to  be  fair  for  sailing,  we  sit 
in  distress  and  gaze  out  perpetually.  Which  way  is 
the  wind?  —  North.  —  What  do  we  want  of  that? 
When  will  the  west  blow  ?  —  When  it  pleases,  friend, 
or  when  ^Eolus  pleases ;  for  Zeus  has  not  made  you 
dispenser  of  the  winds,  but  ^Eolus. 

What  then  is  to  be  done  ? 

To  make  the  best  of  what  is  in  our  power,  and  take 
the  rest  as  it  occurs. 

And  how  does  it  occur  ? 

As  it  pleases  God. 

What,  then,  must  I  be  the  only  one  to  lose  my  head  ? 

Why,  would  you  have  all  the  world,  then,  lose 
their  heads  for  your  consolation  ?  Why  are  not  you 
willing  to  stretch  out  your  neck,  like  Lateranus,* 
when  he  was  commanded  by  Nero  to  be  beheaded  ? 
For,  shrinking  a  little  after  receiving  a  weak  blow, 
he  stretched  it  out  again.  And  before  this,  when 
Epaphroditus,f  the  freedman  of  Nero,  interrogated 

*  Plautius  Lateranus,  a  Consul  elect,  was  put  to  death  by  the 
command  of  Nero,  for  being  privy  to  the  conspiracy  of  Piso.  His 
execution  was  so  sudden,  that  he  was  not  permitted  to  take  leave  of 
his  wife  and  children ;  but  was  hurried  into  a  place  appropriated  to 
the  punishment  of  slaves,  and  there  killed  by  the  hand  of  the  tribune 
Statius.  He  suffered  in  obstinate  silence,  and  without  making  any 
reproach  to  Statius,  who  was  concerned  in  the  same  plot  for  which  he 
himself  was  punished.     Tacitus,  Ann.  xv.  c.  60.  —  C. 

tEpaphroditus  was  the  master  of  requests  and  freedman  of  Nero, 
and  the  master  of  Epictetus.  He  assisted  Nero  in  killing  himself;  for 
which  he  was  condemned  to  death  by  Domitian.  Suetonius  in  Vita 
Neronis,  c.  49  :  Domit.  c.  14. — C. 


6  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

him  about  the  conspiracy :  "  If  I  have  a  mind  to  say 
anything,"  replied  he, "  I  will  tell  it  to  your  master." 

What  resource  have  we  then  upon  such  occasions  ? 
Why,  what  else  but  to  distinguish  between  what  is 
ours,  and  what  not  ours ;  what  is  right,  and  what  is 
wrong.  I  must  die,  and  must  I  die  groaning  too  ?  — 
Be  fettered.  Must  I  be  lamenting  too?  —  Exiled. 
And  what  hinders  me,  then,  but  that  I  may  go  smil- 
ing, and  cheerful,  and  serene  ?  —  "  Betray  a  secret." 
—  I  will  not  betray  it ;  for  this  is  in  my  own  power. 
— "  Then  I  will  fetter  you." —  What  do  you  say, 
man?  Fetter  me?  You  will  fetter  my  leg;  but 
not  Zeus  himself  can  get  the  better  of  my  free  will. 
"I  will  throw  you  into  prison:  I  will  behead  that 
paltry  body  of  yours."  Did  I  ever  tell  you,  that  I 
alone  had  a  head  not  liable  to  be  cut  off?  —  These 
things  ought  philosophers  to  study ;  these  ought  they 
daily  to  write ;  and  in  these  to  exercise  themselves. 

Thraseas  *  used  to  say,  "  I  had  rather  be  killed  to- 
day, than  banished  to-morrow."  But  how  did  Ru- 
fus f  answer  him ?  "If  you  prefer  it  as  a  heavier 
misfortune,  how  foolish  a  preference  !  If  as  a  light- 
er, who  has  put  it  in  your  power  ?  Why  do  not  you 
study  to  be  contented  with  what  is  allotted  you  ?  " 

Well,  and  what  said  Agrippinus,J  upon  this  ac- 

*  Thraseas  Paetus,  a  Stoic  philosopher,  put  to  death  by  Nero.  He 
was  husband  of  Arria,  so  well  known  by  that  beautiful  epigram  in 
Martial.  The  expression  of  Tacitus  concerning  him  is  remarkable  : 
"  After  the  murder  of  so  many  excellent  persons,  Nero  at  last  formed 
a  desire  of  cutting  off  virtue  itself,  by  the  execution  of  Thraseas 
Paetus  and  Bareas  Soranus."     Ann.  xvi.  c.  21.  —  C. 

t  Rufus  was  a  Tuscan,  of  the  equestrian  order,  and  a  Stoic  philos- 
opher. When  Vespasian  banished  the  other  philosophers,  Rufus  was 
alone  excepted.  —  C. 

\  Agrippinus  was  banished  by  Nero,  for  no  other  crime  than  the 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  J 

count?  "I  will  not  be  a  hindrance  to  myself." 
Word  was  brought  him,  "  Your  cause  is  trying  in  the 
senate."  —  "Good  luck  attend  it;  but  it  is  eleven 
o'clock"  (the  hour  when  he  used  to  exercise  before 
bathing)  :  "  Let  us  go  to  our  exercise."  This  being 
over,  a  messenger  tells  him,  "  You  are  condemned." 
To  banishment,  says  he,  or  to  death  ?  "  To  banish- 
ment."—  What  of  my  estate?  —  "It  is  not  taken 
away."  Well  then,  let  us  go  as  far  as  Aricia,*  and 
dine  there. 

This  it  is  to  have  studied  what  ought  to  be  stud- 
ied ;  to  have  placed  our  desires  and  aversions  above 
tyranny  and  above  chance.  I  must  die :  if  instantly, 
I  will  die  instantly ;  if  in  a  short  time,  I  will  dine 
first;  and  when  the  hour  comes,  then  I  will  die. 
How  ?  As  becomes  one  who  restores  what  is  not  his 
own. 


CHAPTER    II. 

IN  WHAT   MANNER,  UPON   EVERT   OCCASION,  TO   PRESERVE 
OUR   CHARACTER. 

TO  a  reasonable  creature,  that  alone  is  insupporta- 
ble which  is  unreasonable ;  but  everything  rea- 
sonable may  be  supported.  Stripes  are  not  naturally 
insupportable.  —  "  How  so  ?  "  —  See  how  the  Spar- 
tans f  bear  whipping,  after  they  have  learned  that  it 

unfortunate  death  of  his  father,  who  had  been  causelessly  killed  by  the 
command  of  Tiberius ;  and  this  had  furnished  a  pretence  for  accusing 
him  of  hereditary  disloyalty.     Tacitus,  Ann.  xvi.  c.  28,  29.  —  C. 

*  Aricia,  a  town  about  sixteen  miles  from  Eome,  which  lay  in  his 
road  to  banishment.  —  C. 

t  The  Spartans,  to  make  a  trial  of  the  fortitude  of  their  children, 
used  to  have  them  publicly  whipped  at  the  altar  of  Diana ;  and  often 


8  THE   DISCOUKSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

is  a  reasonable  thing.  Hanging  is  not  insupport- 
able ;  for,  as  soon  as  a  man  has  taken  it  into  his 
head  that  it  is  reasonable,  he  goes  and  hangs  himself. 
In  short  we  shall  find  by  observation,  that  no  crea- 
ture is  oppressed  so  much  by  anything,  as  by  what  is 
unreasonable ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  attracted  to 
anything  so  strongly,  as  to  what  is  reasonable. 

But  it  happens  that  different  things  are  reason- 
able and  unreasonable,  as  well  as  good  and  bad, 
advantageous  and  disadvantageous,  to  different  per- 
sons. On  this  account,  chiefly,  we  stand  in  need  of 
a  liberal  education,  to  teach  us  to  adapt  the  precon- 
ceptions of  reasonable  and  unreasonable  to  particular 
cases,  conformably  to  nature.  But  to  judge  of  rea- 
sonable and  unreasonable,  we  make  use  not  only  of  a 
due  estimation  of  things  without  us,  but  of  what 
relates  to  each  person's  particular  character.  Thus, 
it  is  reasonable  for  one  man  to  submit  to  a  menial 
office,  who  considers  this  only,  that  if  he  does  not 
submit  to  it,  he  shall  be  whipt,  and  lose  his  dinner, 
but  that  if  he  does,  he  has  nothing  hard  or  disagree- 
able to  suffer ;  whereas  to  another  it  appears  insup- 
portable, not  only  to  submit  to  such  an  office  himself, 
but  to  respect  any  one  else  who  does.  If  you  ask 
me,  then,  whether  you  shall  do  this  menial  office  or 
not,  I  will  tell  you,  it  is  a  more  valuable  tiling  to  get 
a  dinner,  than  not;  and  a  greater  disgrace  to  be 
whipt,  than  not  to  be  whipt ;  —  so  that,  if  you  meas- 
ure yourself  by  these  things,  go  and  do  your  office. 
"  Ay,  but  this  is  not  suitable  to  my  character." 
It  is  you  who  are  to  consider  that,  not  I ;  for  it  is 

with  so  much  severity,  that  they  expired.  The  boys  supported 
this  exercise  with  so  much  constancy  as  never  to  cry  out,  nor  even 
groan.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  9 

you  who  know  yourself,  what  value  you  set  upon 
yourself,  and  at  what  rate  you  sell  yourself;  for  dif- 
ferent people  sell  themselves  at  different  prices. 

Hence  Agrippinus  *  when  Florus  was  considering 
whether  he  should  go  to  Nero's  shows,  and  perform 
some  part  in  them  himself,  bid  him  go.  —  "  But  why 
do  not  you  go  then  ?  "  says  Florus.  "  Because," 
replied  Agrippinus,  "  I  do  not  deliberate  about  it." 
For  he  who  once  sets  himself  about  such  consid- 
erations, and  goes  to  calculating  the  worth  of  exter- 
nal things,  approaches  very  near  to  those  who  forget 
their  own  character.  For,  why  do  you  ask  me 
whether  death  or  life  be  the  more  eligible?  I  an- 
swer, life.     Pain  or  pleasure  ?    I   answer,  pleasure. 

—  "  But  if  I  do  not  act  a  part,  I  shall  lose  my  head." 

—  Go  and  act  it  then,  but  I  will  not.—  "  Why  ?  "  — 
Because  you  esteem  yourself  only  as  one  thread  of 
many  that  make  up  the  piece.  —  "  What  then  ?  "  — 
You  have  nothing  to  care  for,  but  how  to  be  like  the 
rest  of  mankind,  as  one  thread  desires  not  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  others.  But  I  would  be  the 
purple,!  *nat  small  and  brilliant  part,  which  gives  a 
lustre  and  beauty  to  the  rest.  Why  do  you  bid  me 
resemble  the  multitude  then  ?  At  that  rate,  how 
shall  I  be  the  purple  ? 

This  Priscus  Helvidius  J  too  saw,  and  acted  accord- 

*  Nero  was  remarkably  fond  of  theatrical  entertainments;  and 
used  to  introduce  upon  the  stage  the  descendants  of  noble  families, 
whom  want  had  rendered  venal.     Tacitus,   Ann.  xiv.  c.  14.  —  C. 

t  An  allusion  to  the  purple  border,  which  distinguished  the  dress 
of  the  Roman  nobility.  —  C. 

t  Helvidius  Priscus  was  no  less  remarkable  for  his  learning  and 
philosophy,  than  for  the  sanctity  of  his  manners  and  the  love  of  his 
country.     He  behaved  however  with  too  much  haughtiness  on  several 


10  THE  DISCOUESES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

ingly  ;  for  when  Yespasian  had  sent  to  forbid  his  go- 
ing to  the  Senate,  he  answered,  "  It  is  in  your  power 
to  prevent  my  continuing  a  senator  ;  but  while  I  am 
one,  I  must  go."  —  "  Well  then,  at  least  be  silent 
there."  — "  Do  not  ask  my  opinion  and  I  will  be 
silent." —-"  But  I  must  ask  it."  — "And  I  must 
speak  what  appears  to  me  to  be  right."  — "  But  if 
you  do,  I  will  put  you  to  death."  —  "  When  did  I  ever 
tell  you  that  I  was  immortal?  You  will  do  your 
part,  and  I  mine  :  it  is  yours  to  kill  and  mine  to  die 
intrepid ;  yours  to  banish,  mine  to  depart  untroubled." 

What  good,  then,  did  Priscus  do,  who  was  but  a 
single  person  ?  Why,  what  good  does  the  purple  do 
to  the  garment  ?  What,  but  to  be  beautiful  in  itself, 
and  to  set  a  good  example  to  the  rest  ?  Another, 
perhaps,  if  in  such  circumstances  Caesar  had  forbid- 
den his  going  to  the  Senate,  would  have  answered, 
"  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  excusing  me."  But  such 
a  one  he  would  not  have  forbidden  to  go  ;  well  know- 
ing, that  he  would  either  sit  like  a  statue,  or,  if  he 
spoke,  would  say  what  he  knew  to  be  agreeable  to 
Caesar,  and  would  overdo  it,  by  adding  still  more. 

Thus  acted  even  a  wrestler,  who  was  in  danger  of 
death,  unless  he  consented  to  an  ignominious  ampu- 
tation. His  brother,  who  was  a  philosopher,  coming 
to  him,  and  saying  "  Well,  brother,  what  do  you  de- 
sign to  do  ?  Let  us  cut  away  this  part,  and  return 
again  to  the  field."  He  refused,  and  courageously 
died. 

When  it  was  asked,  whether  he  acted  thus  as  a 
wrestler,  or  a  philosopher  ?  I  answer,  as  a  man,  said 

occasions,  to  Vespasian,  who  sentenced  him  to  death  with  great  reluc- 
tance, and  even  forbade  the  execution,  when  it  was  too  late.  Sueton. 
in  Vesp.  §  15.  — C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  11 

Epictetus ;  but  as  a  man  who  had  been  proclaimed  a 
champion  at  the  Olympic  games ;  who  had  been  used 
to  such  places,  and  not  exercised  merely  in  the  school 
of  Bato.*  Another  would  have  had  his  very  head  cut 
off,  if  he  could  have  lived  without  it.  This  is  that 
regard  to  character,  so  powerful  with  those  who  are 
accustomed  to  introduce  it,  from  their  own  breasts, 
into  their  deliberations. 

"  Come  now,  Epictetus,  take  off  your  beard.'1  f  —  If 
I  am  a  philosopher,  I  answer,  I  will  not  take  it  off.  — 
"  Then  I  will  take  off  your  head."  — If  that  wiU  do 
you  any  good,  take  it  off. 

It  was  asked,  How  shall  each  of  us  perceive  what 
belongs  to  his  character?  Whence,  replied  Epicte- 
tus, does  a  bull,  when  the  lion  approaches,  alone  rec- 
ognize his  own  qualifications,  and  expose  himself 
alone  for  the  whole  herd  ?  It  is  evident,  that  with 
the  qualifications,  occurs,  at  the  same  time,  the  con- 
sciousness of  being  indued  with  them.  And  in  the 
same  manner,  whoever  of  us  hath  such  qualifications, 
will  not  be  ignorant  of  them.  But  neither  is  a  bull, 
nor  a  gallant-spirited  man,  formed  all  at  once.  We 
are  to  exercise,  and  qualify  ourselves,  and  not  to  run 
rashly  upon  what  doth  not  concern  us. 

Only  consider  at  what  price  you  sell  your  own  free 
will,  0  man !  if  only  that  you  may  not  sell  it  for 
a  trifle.  The  highest  greatness  and  excellence  per- 
haps seem  to  belong  to  others,  to  such  as  Socrates. 
Why  then,  as  we  are  born  with  a  like  nature,  do 
not  all,  or  the  greater  number,  become  such  as  he  ? 

*  Bato  was  a  famous  master  of  the  Olympic  exercises.  —  C. 

t  Domitian  ordered  all  the  philosophers  to  be  banished.  To  avoid 
this  inconvenience,  those  who  had  a  mind  to  disguise  their  profession, 
took  off  their  beards.  —  C. 


12  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

Why,  are  all  horses  swift  ?  Are  all  dogs  sagacious  ? 
What  then,  because  my  gifts  are  humble,  shall  I  neg- 
lect all  care  of  myself  ?  Heaven  forbid !  Epictetus 
may  not  surpass  Socrates ;  granted :  but  could  I 
overtake  him,  it  might  be  enough  for  me.  I  shall 
never  be  Milo,  and  yet  I  do  not  neglect  my  body ; 
nor  Croesus,  and  yet  I  do  not  neglect  my  property ; 
nor  should  we  omit  any  effort,  from  a  despair  of  arriv- 
ing at  the  highest. 


CHAPTER   III. 

HOW,  FROM  THE  DOCTRINE  THAT  GOD  IS  THE  FATHER  OF 
MANKIND,  WE  MAY  PROCEED  TO  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

IF  a  person  could  be  persuaded  of  this  principle  as 
he  ought,  that  we  are  all  originally  descended  from 
God,  and  that  he  is  the  father  of  men  and  gods ;  I 
conceive  he  never  would  think  of  himself  meanly  or 
ignobly.  Suppose  Caesar  were  to  adopt  you,  there 
would  be  no  bearing  your  haughty  looks ;  and  will 
you  not  feel  ennobled  on  knowing  yourself  to  be  the 
son  of  God  ?  Yet,  in  fact,  we  are  not  ennobled.  But 
having  two  things  united  in  our  composition,  a  body 
in  common  with  the  brutes,  and  reason  in  common 
with  the  gods,  many  incline  to  this  unhappy  and  mor- 
tal kindred,  and  only  some  few  to  that  which  is  happy 
and  divine.  And,  as  of  necessity  every  one  must  treat 
each  particular  thing,  according  to  the  notions  he 
forms  about  it ;  so  those  few,  who  suppose  that  they 
are  made  for  faith  and  honor,  and  a  wise  use  of 
things,  will  never  think  meanly  or  ignobly  concern- 
ing themselves.     But  with  the  multitude  the  case  is 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  IB 

contrary  ;  "  For  what  am  I  ?  A  poor  contemptible 
man,  with  this  miserable  flesh  of  mine  ?  "  Miserable 
indeed.  But  you  have  likewise  something  better 
than  this  poor  flesh.  Why  then,  overlooking  that,  do 
you  pine  away  in  attention  to  this  ? 

By  means  of  this  [animal]  kindred,  some  of  us, 
deviating  towards  it,  become  like  wolves,  faithless, 
and  crafty,  and  mischievous  ;  others,  like  lions,  wild, 
and  savage,  and  untamed ;  but  most  of  us  foxes, 
and  disgraceful  even  among  brutes.  For  what  else 
is  a  slanderous  and  ill-natured  man,  but  a  fox,  or 
something  yet  more  wretched  and  mean?  Watch 
and  take  heed  then,  that  you  do  not  sink  thus  low. 


CHAPTER   IV 

OF   PROGRESS. 

HE  who  is  entering  on  a  state  of  progress,  having 
learnt  from  the  philosophers,  that  good  should 
be  sought  and  evil  shunned ;  and  having  learnt  too, 
that  prosperity  and  peace  are  no  otherwise  attainable 
by  man,  than  in  not  missing  what  he  seeks,  nor  in- 
curring what  he  shuns ;  such  a  one  removes  totally 
from  himself  and  banishes  all  wayward  desire,  and 
shuns  only  those  things  over  which  he  can  have  con- 
trol. For  if  he  should  attempt  to  shun  those  things 
over  which  he  has  no  control,  he  knows  that  he  must 
sometimes  incur  that  which  he  shuns,  and  be  unhap- 
py. Now  if  virtue  promises  happiness,  prosperity, 
and  peace ;  then  progress  in  virtue  is  certainly  pro- 
gress in  each  of  these.    For  to  whatever  point  the  per- 


14  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

fection  of  anything  absolutely  brings  us,  progress  is 
always  an  approach  towards  it. 

How  happens  it  then,  that  when  we  confess  virtue 
to  be  such,  yet  we  seek,  and  make  an  ostentatious 
show  of  progress  in  other  things  ?  What  is  the  busi- 
ness of  virtue  ? 

A  life  truly  prosperous. 

Who  is  in  a  state  of  progress  then  ?  He  who  has 
best  studied  Chrysippus  ?  *  Why,  does  virtue  consist 
in  having  read  Chrysippus  through  ?  If  so,  progress  is 
confessedly  nothing  else  than  understanding  a  great 
deal  of  Chrysippus ;  otherwise  we  confess  virtue  to 
consist  in  one  thing,  and  declare  progress,  which  is 
an  approach  to  it,  to  be  quite  another  thing. 

This  person,  they  say,  is  already  able  to  under- 
stand Chrysippus,  by  himself.  —  "  Certainly,  sir,  you 
have  made  a  vast  improvement !  "  What  improve- 
ment? Why  do  you  delude  him?  Why  do  you 
withdraw  him  from  a  sense  of  his  real  needs  ?  Why 
do  not  you  show  him  the  real  function  of  virtue,  that 
lie  may  know  where  to  seek  progress  ?  —  Seek  it 
there,  0 !  unfortunate,  where  your  work  lies.  And 
where  doth  your  work  lie  ?  In  learning  what  to  seek 
and  what  to  shun,  that  you  may  neither  be  disap- 
pointed of  the  one,  nor  incur  the  other ;  in  practising 
how  to  pursue  and  how  to  avoid,  that  you  may  not  be 
liable  to  fail ;  in  practising  intellectual  assent  and 
doubt,  that  you  may  not  be  liable  to  be  deceived. 
These  are  the  first  and  most  necessary  things.  But 
if  you  merely  seek,  in  trembling  and  lamentation,  to 

*  Chrysippus  was  regarded  as  the  highest  authority  among  the 
later  Stoics;  hut  not  one  of  his  seven  hundred  volumes  has  come 
down  to  posterity.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  15 

t 

keep  away  all  possible  ills,  what  real  progress  have 
you  made  ? 

Show  me  then  your  progress  in  this  point.  As  if  I 
should  say  to  a  wrestler,  Show  me  your  muscle  ;  and 
he  should  answer  me,  "  See  my  dumb-bells."  Your 
dumb-bells  are  your  own  affair :  I  desire  to  see  the 
effect  of  them. 

"  Take  the  treatise  on  the  active  powers,  and  see 
how  thoroughly  I  have  perused  it." 

I  do  not  inquire  into  this,  0 !  slavish  man ;  but 
how  you  exert  those  powers ;  how  you  manage  your 
desires  and  aversions,  how  your  intentions  and  pur- 
poses ;  how  you  meet  events,  whether  in  accordance 
with  nature's  laws,  or  contrary  to  them.  If  in  ac- 
cordance, give  me  evidence  of  that,  and  I  will  say 
you  improve :  if  the  contrary,  go  your  way,  and  not 
only  comment  on  these  treatises,  but  write  such  your- 
self, and  yet  what  service  will  it  do  you  ?  Do  not 
you  know  that  the  whole  volume  is  sold  for  five  de- 
narii ?  Doth  he  who  comments  upon  it,  then,  value 
himself  at  more  than  that  sum  ?  Never  make  your 
life  to  consist  in  one  thing  and  yet  seek  progress  in 
another. 

Where  is  progress,  then  ? 

If  any  of  you,  withdrawing  himself  from  externals, 
turns  to  his  own  will,  to  train,  and  perfect,  and  ren- 
der it  conformable  to  nature ;  noble,  free,  unre- 
strained, unhindered,  faithful,  humble ;  if  he  hath 
learnt,  too,  that  whoever  desires  or  shuns  things  be- 
yond his  own  power,  can  neither  be  faithful  nor  free, 
but  must  necessarily  take  his  chance  with  them, 
must  necessarily  too  be  subject  to  others,  to  such  as 
can  procure  or  prevent  what  he  desire0  or  shuns ;  if, 
rising  in  the  morning,  he  observes  and  keeps  to  these 


16  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

rules ;  bathes  regularly,  eats  frugally ;  and  to  every 
subject  of  action,  applies  the  same  fixed  principles, 
—  if  a  racer  to  racing,  if  an  orator  to  oratory ;  this 
is  he,  who  truly  makes  progress ;  this  is  he,  who  hath 
not  labored  in  vain.  But  if  he  is  wholly  intent  on 
reading  books,  and  hath  labored  that  point  only,  and 
travelled  for  that ;  I  bid  him  go  home  immediately, 
and  do  his  daily  duties ;  since  that  which  he  sought 
is  nothing. 

The  only  real  thing  is,  to  study  how  to  rid  life  of 
lamentation,  and  complaint,  and  Alas  !  and  I  am  un- 
done, and  misfortune,  and  failure  ;  and  to  learn  what 
death,  what  exile,  what  a  prison,  what  poison  is ; 
that  he  may  be  able  to  say  in  a  prison,  like  Socrates, 
"  My  dear  Crito,  if  it  thus  pleases  the  gods,  thus  let 
it  be  " ;  and  not,  "  Wretched  old  man,  have  I  kept 
my  gray  hairs  for  this !  "  [Do  you  ask]  who  speaks 
thus  ?  Do  you  think  I  quote  some  mean  and  des- 
picable person?  Is  it  not  Priam  who  says  it?  Is 
it  not  (Edipus  ?  Nay,  how  many  kings  say  it  ? 
For  what  else  is  tragedy,  but  the  dramatized  suffer- 
ings of  men,  bewildered  by  an  admiration  of  exter- 
nals? If  one  were  to  be  taught  by  fictions,  that 
things  beyond  our  will  are  nothing  to  us,  I  should 
rejoice  in  such  a  fiction,  by  which  I  might  live  pros- 
perous and  serene.  But  what  you  wish  for,  it  is  your 
business  to  consider. 

Of  what  service,  then,  is  Chrysippus  to  us  ? 

To  teach  you,  that  those  things  are  not  false,  on 
which  true  prosperity  and  peace  depend.  "  Take  my 
books,  and  you  will  see,  how  true  and  conformable  to 
nature  those  things  are,  which  give  me  peace. "  How 
great  a  happiness !  And  how  great  the  benefactor, 
who  shows  the  way !     To  Triptolemus  all  men  have 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  17 

raised  temples  and  altars,  because  lie  gave  us  a 
milder  kind  of  food :  but  to  him  who  hath  discovered, 
and  brought  to  light,  and  communicated  the  truth  to 
all ;  *  the  means,  not  of  living  merely,  but  of  living 
well ;  who  among  you  ever  raised  an  altar  or  a  tem- 
ple, or  dedicated  a  statue,  or  who  worships  God  in  his 
name  ?  We  offer  sacrifices  in  memory  of  those  who 
have  given  us  corn  and  the  vine ;  and  shall  we  not 
give  thanks  to  God,  for  those  who  have  nurtured 
such  fruit  in  the  human  breast ;  even  the  truth  which 
makes  us  blessed  ? 


CHAPTER    V. 

CONCERNING  THE  ACADEMICS.f 

IT  is  said  that  there  are  those  who  will  oppose  very 
evident  truths,  and  yet  it  is  not  easy  to  find  a 
reason  which  may  persuade  such  an  one  to  alter 
his  opinion.  This  may  arise  neither  from  his  own 
strength,  nor  from  the  weakness  of  his  teacher ;  but 
when  a  man  becomes  obstinate  in  error,  reason  can- 
not always  reach  him. 

Now  there  are  two  sorts  of  obstinacy :  the  one, 
of  the  intellect ;  the  other,  of  the  will.  A  man  may 
obstinately  set  himself  not  to  assent  to  evident  truths, 
nor  to  quit  the  defence  of  contradictions.  We  all 
dread  a  bodily  paralysis ;  and  would  make  use  ot 
every  contrivance  to  avoid  it :  but  none  of  us  is  trou- 
bled about  a  paralysis  of  the  soul.     And  yet,  indeed, 

*  Triptolemus  was  said  to  have  introduced  agriculture  and  vege- 
table food  among  men,  under  the  guidance  of  Ceres.  —  H. 

t  The  New  Academy  denied  the  existence  of  any  universal 
truths.— H. 

2 


18  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

even  with  regard  to  the  soul,  when  a  person  is  so  af- 
fected as  not  to  apprehend  or  understand  anything, 
we  think  him  in  a  sad  condition ;  but  where  the  emo- 
tions of  shame  and  modesty  are  under  an  absolute 
paralysis,  we  go  so  far  as  even  to  call  this  strength 
of  mind ! 

Are  you  certain  that  you  are  awake?  —  "I  am 
not,"  replies  such  a  person,  a  for  neither  am  I  certain 
when  in  dreaming  I  appear  to  myself  to  be  awake." 
Is  there  no  difference,  then,  between  these  appear- 
ances ?  —  "  None."  Shall  I  argue  with  this  man  any 
longer  ?  For  what  steel  or  what  caustic  can  I  apply, 
to  make  him  sensible  of  his  paralysis  ?  If  he  is  sen- 
sible of  it,  and  pretends  not  to  be  so,  he  is  even  worse 
than  dead.  He  sees  not  his  inconsistency,  or,  seeing 
it,  holds  to  the  wrong.  He  moves  not,  makes  no 
progress ;  he  rather  falls  back.  His  sense  of  shame 
is  gone ;  his  reasoning  faculty  is  not  gone,  but  bru- 
talized. Shall  I  call  this  strength  of  mind  ?  By  no 
means:  unless  we  allow  it  to  be  such  in  the  vilest 
debauchees,  publicly  to  speak  and  act  out  their  worst 
impulses. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

OF   PROVIDENCE. 

FROM  every  event  that  happens  in  the  world  it  is 
easy  to  celebrate  Providence,  if  a  person  hath 
but  these  two  qualities  in  himself;  a  faculty  of  con- 
sidering what  happens  to  each  individual,  and  a 
grateful  temper.  Without  the  first,  he  will  not  per- 
ceive the  usefulness  of  things  which  happen;   and 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  19 

without  the  other,  he  will  not  be  thankful  for  them. 
If  God  had  made  colors,  and  had  not  made  the  fac- 
ulty of  seeing  them,  what  would  have  been  their  use  ? 
None.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  had  made  the  faculty 
of  observation,  without  objects  to  observe,  what  would 
have  been  the  use  of  that  ?  None.  Again  ;  if  he  had 
formed  both  the  faculty  and  the  objects,  but  had  not 
made  light  ?  Neither  in  that  case  would  they  have 
been  of  any  use. 

Who  is  it  then  that  hath  fitted  each  of  these  to  the 
other  ?  Who  is  it  that  hath  fitted  the  sword  to  the 
scabbard,  and  the  scabbard  to  the  sword  ?  Is  there 
no  such  Being?  From  the  very  construction  of  a 
complete  work,  we  are  used  to  declare  positively,  that 
it  must  be  the  operation  of  some  artificer,  and  not 
the  effect  of  mere  chance.  Doth  every  such  work, 
then,  demonstrate  an  artificer;  and  do  not  visible 
objects,  and  the  sense  of  seeing,  and  light,  demon 
strate  one  ?  Do  not  the  difference  of  the  sexes,  and 
their  inclination  to  each  other,  and  the  use  of  their 
several  powers ;  do  not  these  things  demonstrate  an 
artificer  ?     Most  certainly  they  do. 

But  further;  this  constitution  of  understanding, 
by  which  we  are  not  simply  impressed  by  sensible 
objects,  but  take  and  subtract  and  add  and  combine, 
and  pass  from  point  to  point  by  inference  ;  is  not  all 
this  sufficient  to  prevail  on  some  men,  and  make 
them  ashamed  of  leaving  an  artificer  out  of  their 
scheme  ?  If  not,  let  them  explain  to  us  what  the 
power  is  that  effects  each  of  these  ;  and  how  it  is  pos- 
sible that  chance  should  produce  things  so  wonderful, 
and  which  carry  such  marks  of  design  ? 

What,  then,  do  these  things  belong  to  us  alone  ? 

Many  indeed ;  such  as  are  peculiarly  necessary  for 


20  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

a  reasonable  creature ;  but  you  will  find  many,  which 
are  common  to  us  with  mere  animals. 

Then,  do  they  too  understand  what  happens  ? 

Not  at  all ;  for  use  is  one  affair,  and  understand- 
ing another.  But  God  had  need  of  animals,  to  make 
use  of  things ;  and  of  us  to  understand  that  use.  It 
is  sufficient,  therefore,  for  them  to  eat,  and  drink, 
and  sleep,  and  continue  their  species,  and  perform 
other  such  offices  as  belong  to  each  of  them ;  but  to 
us,  to  whom  he  hath  given  likewise  a  faculty  of  un- 
derstanding, these  offices  are  not  sufficient.  For  if 
we  do  not  proceed  in  a  wise  and  systematic  manner, 
and  suitably  to  the  nature  and  constitution  of  each 
thing,  we  shall  never  attain  our  end.  For  where 
the  constitution  of  beings  is  different,  their  offices 
and  ends  are  different  likewise.  Thus  where  the 
constitution  is  adapted  only  to  use,  there  use  is  alone 
sufficient ;  but  where  understanding  is  added  to  use, 
unless  that  too  be  duly  exercised,  the  end  of  such  a 
being  will  never  be  attained. 

Well  then;  each  of  the  animals  is  constituted 
either  for  food,  or  husbandry,  to  produce  milk,  or  for 
some  other  like  use ;  and  for  these  purposes  what 
need  is  there  of  understanding  things,  and  being  able 
to  discriminate  concerning  them?  But  God  hath 
introduced  man,  as  a  spectator  of  himself  and  of  his 
works ;  and  not  only  as  a  spectator,  but  an  inter- 
preter of  them.  It  is  therefore  shameful  that  man 
should  begin  and  end,  where  irrational  creatures  do. 
He  is  indeed  to  begin  there,  but  to  end  where  nature 
itself  hath  fixed  our  end ;  and  that  is,  in  contempla- 
tion and  understanding,  and  in  a  scheme  of  life  con- 
formable to  nature. 

Take  care,  then,  not  to  die  without  the  contempla- 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  21 

tion  of  these  things.  You  take  a  journey  to  Olympia 
to  behold  the  work  of  Phidias,  and  each  of  you 
thinks  it  a  misfortune  to  die  without  a  knowledge  of 
such  things ;  and  will  you  have  no  inclination  to  see 
and  understand  those  works,  for  which  there  is  no 
need  to  take  a  journey ;  but  which  are  ready  and  at 
hand,  even  to  those  who  bestow  no  pains !  Will  you 
never  perceive  what  you  are,  or  for  what  you  were 
born,  or  for  what  purpose  you  are  admitted  to  behold 
this  spectacle  ? 

But  there  are  in  life  some  things  unpleasant  and 
difficult. 

And  are  there  none  at  Olympia?  Are  not  you 
heated  ?  Are  not  you  crowded  ?  Are  not  you  with- 
out good  conveniences  for  bathing?  Are  not  you 
wet  through,  when  it  happens  to  rain  ?  Do  you  not 
have  uproar,  and  noise,  and  other  disagreeable  cir- 
cumstances ?  But  I  suppose,  by  comparing  all  these 
with  the  merit  of  the  spectacle,  you  support  and 
endure  them.  Well ;  and  have  you  not  received  fac- 
ulties by  which  you  may  support  every  event  ?  Have 
you  not  received  greatness  of  soul?  Have  you  not 
received  a  manly  spirit?  Have  you  not  received 
patience  ?  What  signifies  to  me  anything  that  hap- 
pens, while  my  soul  is  above  it  ?  What  shall  discon- 
cert or  trouble  or  appear  grievous  to  me  ?  Shall 
I  not  use  my  powers  to  that  purpose  for  which 
I  received  them;  but  lament  and  groan  at  every 
casualty  ? 

"  True,  no  doubt ;  but  I  have  such  a  disagreeable 
catarrh ! "  Attend  to  your  diseases,  then,  as  best 
you  can.  Do  you  say,  it  is  unreasonable  that  there 
should  be  such  a  discomfort  in  the  world  ? 

And  how  much  better  is  it  that  you  should  have  a 


22  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

catarrh  than  complain?  Pray,  what  figure  do  you 
think  Hercules  would  have  made,  if  there  had  not 
been  a  lion,  and  a  hydra,  and  a  stag,  and  unjust  and 
brutal  men,  whom  he  expelled  and  cleared  away? 
And  what  would  he  have  done,  if  none  of  these  had 
existed  ?  Is  it  not  plain,  that  he  must  have  wrapt 
himself  up  and  slept  ?  In  the  first  place,  then,  he 
would  never  have  become  a  Hercules,  by  slumbering 
away  his  whole  life  in  such  delicacy  and  ease ;  or  if 
he  had,  what  good  would  it  have  done  ?  What  would 
have  been  the  use  of  his  arm  and  his  strength,  —  of 
his  patience  and  greatness  of  mind,  —  if  such  cir- 
cumstances and  subjects  of  action  had  not  roused  and 
exercised  him  ? 

What  then,  must  we  provide  these  things  for  our- 
selves ;  and  introduce  a  boar,  and  a  lion,  and  a  hydra, 
into  our  country  ? 

This  would  be  madness  and  folly.  But  as  they 
were  in  being,  and  to  be  met  with,  they  were  proper 
subjects  to  call  out  and  exercise  Hercules.  Do  you 
therefore  likewise,  being  sensible  of  this,  consider  the 
faculties  you  have  ;  and  after  taking  a  view  of  them, 
say,  "  Bring  on  me  now,  0  Zeus,  what  difficulty  thou 
wilt,  for  I  have  faculties  granted  me  by  thee,  and 
powers  by  which  I  may  win  honor  from  every  event." 
—  No ;  but  you  sit  trembling,  for  fear  this  or  that 
should  happen,  and  lamenting,  and  mourning,  and 
groaning  at  what  doth  happen  ;  and  then  you  accuse 
the  gods.  For  what  is  the  consequence  of  such  a 
baseness,  but  impiety  ?  And  yet  God  hath  not  only 
granted  these  faculties,  by  which  we  may  bear  every 
event,  without  being  depressed  or  broken  by  it ;  but, 
like  a  good  prince,  and  a  true  father,  hath  placed 
their  exercise   above  restraint,  compulsion,  or  hill- 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  23 

drance,  and  wholly  within  onr  own  control ;  nor  hath 
he  reserved  a  power,  even  to  himself,  of  hindering  or 
restraining  them.  Having  these  things  free,  and 
your  own,  will  you  not  use  them,  nor  consider  what 
you  have  received,  nor  from  whom?  But  you  sit 
groaning  and  lamenting,  some  of  you,  blind  to  him 
who  gave  them,  and  not  acknowledging  your  bene- 
factor; and  others  basely  turn  themselves  to  com- 
plaints and  accusations  against  God  !  Yet  I  under- 
take to  show  you,  that  you  have  means  and  powers 
to  exhibit  greatness  of  soul,  and  a  manly  spirit ;  but 
what  occasion  you  have  to  find  fault,  and  complain, 
do  you  show  me  if  you  can. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

OF   THE   USE    OF  THE  FORMS  OF  RIGHT  REASONING. 

IT  is  not  understood  by  most  persons  that  the  prop- 
er use  of  inferences  and  hypotheses  and  interro- 
gations, and  logical  forms  generally,  has  any  relation 
to  the  duties  of  life.  In  every  subject  of  action,  the 
question  is,  how  a  wise  and  good  man  may  come  hon 
estly  and  consistently  out  of  it.  We  must  admit, 
therefore,  either  that  the  wise  man  will  not  engage 
in  difficult  problems ;  or  that,  if  he  does,  he  will 
not  think  it  worth  his  care  to  deal  with  them  thor- 
oughly ;  or  if  we  allow  neither  of  these  alternatives, 
it  is  necessary  to  confess,  that  some  examination 
ought  to  be  made  of  those  points  on  which  the  solu- 
tion of  these  problems  chiefly  depends.  For  what  is 
reasoning  ?  To  lay  down  true  positions ;  to  reject 
false  ones ;  and  to  suspend  the  judgment  in  doubt- 


24  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

ful  ones.  Is  it  enough,  then,  to  have  learned  mere- 
ly this  ?  It  is  enough,  say  you.  —  Is  it  enough, 
then,  for  him  who  would  not  commit  any  mistake  in 
the  use  of  money,  merely  to  have  heard,  that  we  are 
to  receive  the  good  pieces,  and  to  reject  the  bad  ?  — 
This  is  not  enough.  —  What  must  be  added  besides  ? 
That  skill  which  tries  and  distinguishes  what  pieces 
are  good,  what  bad.  —  Therefore,  in  reasoning  too, 
the  definition  just  given  is  not  enough ;  but  it  is  ne- 
cessary that  we  should  be  able  to  prove  and  distin- 
guish between  the  true,  and  the  false,  and  the  doubt- 
ful.    This  is  clear. 

And  what  further  is  professed  in  reasoning  ?  —  To 
admit  the  consequence  of  what  you  have  properly 
granted.  Well?  and  is  it  enough  merely  to  know 
this  necessity  ?  —  It  is  not ;  but  we  must  learn  how 
such  a  thing  is  the  consequence  of  such  another ;  and 
when  one  thing  follows  from  one  premise,  and  when 
from  many  premises.  Is  it  not  moreover  necessary, 
that  he,  who  would  behave  skilfully  in  reasoning, 
should  both  himself  demonstrate  whatever  he  asserts, 
and  be  able  to  comprehend  the  demonstrations  of 
others ;  and  not  be  deceived  by  such  as  sophisticate, 
as  if  they  were  demonstrating  ?  Hence  arises  the  use 
and  practice  of  logical  forms ;  and  it  appears  to  be 
indispensable. 

But  it  may  possibly  happen,  that  from  the  premises 
which  we  have  honestly  granted,  there  arises  some 
consequence,  which,  though  false,  is  nevertheless  a 
fair  inference.  What  then  ought  I  to  do  ?  To  admit 
a  falsehood?  —  Impossible.  —  To  deny  my  conces- 
sions?—  But  this  will  not  be  allowed.  —  Or  assert 
that  the  consequence  does  not  fairly  follow  from  the 
premises?  —  Nor  is  even  this  practicable.  —  What 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  25 

then  is  to  be  done  in  the  case  ?  —  Is  it  not  this  ?     As 
the  having  once  borrowed  money  is  not  enough  to 
make  a  person  a  debtor,  unless  he  still  continues  to 
owe  money,  and  has  not  paid  it;   so  the  having 
granted  the  premises  is  not  enough  to  make  it  neces- 
sary to  grant  the  inference,  unless  we  continue  our 
concessions.     If  the  premises  continue  to  the  end, 
such  as  they  were  when  the  concessions  were  made, 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  continue  the  concessions, 
and  to  admit  what  follows  from  them.     But  if  the 
premises  do  not  continue  such  as  they  were  when  the 
concession  was  made,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  re- 
voke the  concession,  and  refuse  to  accept  the  infer- 
ence.    For  this  inference  is  no  consequence  of  ours, 
nor  belongs  to  us,  when  we  have  revoked  the  conces- 
sion of  the  premises.     We  ought  then  thoroughly  to 
consider  our  premises,  and  their  different  aspects,  on 
which  any  one,  by  laying  hold,  —  either  on  the  ques- 
tion itself,  or  on  the  answer,  or  on  the  inference  or 
elsewhere,  —  may  embarrass  the  unthinking  who  did 
not  foresee  the  result.     So  that  in  this  way  we  may 
not  be  led  into  any  unbecoming  or  confused  position. 
The  same  thing  is  to  be  observed  in  hypotheses  and 
hypothetical  arguments.     For  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary to  require  some  hypothesis  to  be  granted,  as  a 
kind  of  step  to  the  rest  of  the  argument.     Is  every 
given  hypothesis  then  to  be  granted,  or  not  every  one  ; 
and  if  not  every  one,  which  ?     And  is  he  who  has 
granted  an  hypothesis,  forever  to  abide  by  it  ?     Or  is 
he  sometimes  to  revoke  it,  and  admit  only  conse- 
quences, but  not  to  admit  contradictions  ?  —  Ay,  but 
a  person  may  say,  on  your  admitting  a  possible  hy- 
pothesis I  will  drive  you  upon  an  impossibility.     With 
such  a  one  as  this,  shall  the  wise  man  never  engage, 


26  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

but  avoid  all  argument  and  conversation  with  him  ? 
—  And  yet  who  beside  the  wise  man  is  capable  of 
treating  an  argument,  or  who  beside  is  sagacious  in 
reasoning,  and  incapable  of  being  deceived  and  im- 
posed on  by  sophistry?  —  Or  will  he  indeed  engage, 
but  without  regarding  whether  he  behaves  rashly  and 
heedlessly  in  the  argument  ?  —  Yet  how  then  can  he 
be  wise  as  we  are  supposing  him  ?  and  without  some 
such  exercise  and  preparation,  how  can  he  hold  his 
own  ?  If  this  could  be  shown,  then  indeed  all  these 
forms  of  reasoning  would  be  superfluous  and  absurd, 
and  unconnected  with  our  idea  of  the  virtuous  man. 
Why  then  are  we  still  indolent,  and  slothful,  and 
sluggish,  seeking  pretences  of  avoiding  labor  ?  Shall 
we  not  be  watchful  to  render  reason  itself  accu- 
rate ?  —  "  But  suppose  after  all,  I  should  make  a  mis- 
take in  these  points  ?  it  is  not  as  if  I  had  killed  a 
father."  —  0,  slavish  man!  in  this  case  you  had  no 
father  to  kill ;  but  the  only  fault  that  you  could  com- 
mit in  this  instance,  you  have  committed.  This 
very  thing  I  myself  said  to  Rufus,  when  he  reproved 
me  for  not  finding  the  weak  point  in  some  syllogism. 
Why,  said  I,  have  I  burnt  the  capitol  then  ?  Slave ! 
answered  he,  was  the  thing  here  involved  the  capitol  ? 
Or  are  there  no  other  faults,  but  burning  the  capitol, 
or  killing  a  father  ?  and  is  it  no  fault  to  treat  rashly, 
and  vainly,  and  heedlessly  the  things  which  pass  be- 
fore our  eyes ;  not  to  comprehend  a  reason,  nor  a 
demonstration,  nor  a  sophism ;  nor,  in  short,  to  see 
what  is  strong  in  reasoning  and  what  is  weak?  Is 
there  nothing  wrong  in  this  ? 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  27 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THAT    LOGICAL    SUBTLETIES    ARE   NOT   SAFE  TO    THE    UN- 
INSTRUCTED. 

IN  as  many  ways  as  equivalent  syllogisms  may  be 
varied,  in  so  many  may  the  logical  forms  be  va- 
ried likewise.  As  for  instance :  "If  you  had  bor- 
rowed, and  not  paid,  you  owe  me  money.  But  you 
have  not  borrowed,  and  not  paid ;  therefore  you  do 
not  owe  me  money."  To  perform  these  processes 
skilfully,  is  the  peculiar  mark  of  a  philosopher.  For 
if  an  enthymema  be  an  imperfect  syllogism ;  he  who 
is  versed  in  the  perfect  syllogism,  must  be  equally 
ready  to  detect  an  imperfect  one. 

"  Why  then  do  not  we  exercise  ourselves  and  oth- 
ers, after  this  manner  ?  " 

Because,  even  now,  though  we  are  not  absorbed 
in  these  things,  nor  diverted,  by  me  at  least,  from 
the  study  of  morality ;  yet  we  make  no  eminent  ad- 
vances in  virtue.  What  is  to  be  expected  then  if  we 
should  add  this  avocation  too?  Especially  as  it 
would  not  only  withdraw  us  from  more  necessary 
studies,  but  likewise  afford  a  capital  occasion  of  con- 
ceit and  insolence.  For  the  faculty  of  arguing,  and 
of  persuasive  reasoning  is  great ;  and  particularly,  if 
it  be  constantly  practised,  and  receive  an  additional 
ornament  from  rhetoric.  For,  in  general,  every  such 
faculty  is  dangerous  to  weak  and  uninstructed  per- 
sons, as  being  apt  to  render  them  arrogant  and  elat- 
ed. For  by  what  method  can  one  persuade  a  young 
man,  who  excels  in  these  kinds  of  study,  that  he 
ought  not  to  be  an  appendage  to  these  accomplish- 


28  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

ments,  but  they  to  him  ?  Will  he  not  trample  upon 
all  such  advice ;  and  walk  about  elated  and  puffed 
up,  not  bearing  that  any  one  should  touch  him,  to 
put  him  in  mind  where  he  is  wanting,  and  in  what 
he  goes  wrong  ? 

What  then,  was  not  Plato  a  philosopher  ? 

Well,  and  was  not  Hippocrates  a  physician  ?  Yet 
you  see  how  he  expresses  himself.  But  what  has  his 
style  to  do  with  his  professional  qualities  ?  Why  do 
you  confound  things,  accidentally  united  in  the  same 
men  ?  If  Plato  was  handsome  and  well  made,  must 
I  too  set  myself  to  becoming  handsome  and  well 
made ;  as  if  this  was  necessary  to  philosophy,  be- 
cause a  certain  person  happened  to  be  at  once  hand- 
some and  a  philosopher  ?  Why  will  you  not  perceive 
and  distinguish  what  are  the  things  that  make  men 
philosophers,  and  what  belong  to  them  on  other  ac- 
counts ?  Pray,  if  I  were  a  philosopher,  would  it  be 
necessary  that  you  should  be  lame  too  ? 

What  then  ?  Do  I  reject  these  special  faculties  ? 
By  no  means  ;  —  neither  do  I  reject  the  faculty  of 
seeing.  But  if  you  ask  me,  what  is  the  good  of  man  ; 
I  know  not  where  it  lies,  save  in  dealing  wisely  with 
the  phenomena  of  existence. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

HOW    FROM    THE    DOCTRINE     OP     OUR    RELATIONSHIP    TO 
GOD,    WE   ARE    TO    DEDUCE   ITS    CONSEQUENCES. 

IF  what  philosophers  say  of  the  kinship  between  God 
and  men  be  true,  what  has  any  one  to  do,  but, 
like  Socrates,  when  he  is  asked  what  countryman  he 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  29 

is,  never  to  say  that  he  is  a  citizen  of  Athens,  or  of 
Corinth,  but  of  the  universe  ?  For  why,  if  you  limit 
yourself  to  Athens,  do  you  not  farther  limit  yourself 
to  that  mere  corner  of  Athens  where  your  body  was 
brought  forth  ?  Is  it  not,  evidently,  from  some  larger 
local  tie,  which  comprehends  not  only  that  corner, 
and  your  whole  house,  but  the  whole  country  of  your 
fathers,  that  you  call  yourself  an  Athenian,  or  a  Co- 
rinthian ?  He  then,  who  understands  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  universe,  and  has  learned  that  the 
principal  and  greatest  and  most  comprehensive  of  all 
things  is  this  vast  system,  extending  from  men  to  God ; 
and  that  from  Him  the  seeds  of  being  are  descend- 
ed, not  only  to  one's  father  or  grandfather,  but  to  all 
things  that  are  produced  and  born  on  earth ;  and  es- 
pecially to  rational  natures,  as  they  alone  are  quali- 
fied to  partake  of  a  communication  with  the  Deity, 
being  connected  with  him  by  reason  ;  why  may  not 
such  a  one  call  himself  a  citizen  of  the  universe  ? 
Why  not  a  son  of  God  ?  And  why  shall  he  fear  any- 
thing that  happens  among  men  ?  Shall  kinship  to 
Caesar,  or  any  other  of  the  great  at  Rome,  enable  a 
man  to  live  secure,  above  contempt,  and  void  of  all 
fear  whatever  ;  and  shall  not  the  having  God  for  our 
maker,  and  father,  and  guardian,  free  us  from  griefs 
and  alarms  ? 

"  But  wherewithal  shall  I  be  fed  ?  For  I  have 
nothing." 

To  what  do  fugitive  slaves  trust,  when  they  run 
away  from  their  masters  ?  Is  it  to  their  estates  ? 
Their  servants  ?  Their  plate  ?  To  nothing  but  them- 
selves. Yet  they  do  not  fail  to  obtain  the  necessaries 
of  life.  And  must  a  philosopher,  think  you,  leave  his 
own  abode,  to  rest  and  rely  upon  others ;  and  not  take 


30  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

care  of  himself?  Must  he  be  more  helpless  and  anx- 
ious than  the  brute  beasts  ;  each  of  which  is  self-suf- 
ficient, and  wants  neither  proper  food,  nor  any  suita- 
ble and  natural  provision?  One  would  think  that 
you  would  need  an  instructor,  not  to  guard  you  from 
thinking  too  meanly  or  ignobly  of  yourselves ;  but 
that  his  business  would  be  to  take  care  lest  there  be 
young  men  of  such  a  spirit,  that,  knowing  their  affin- 
ity to  the  gods,  and  that  we  are  as  it  were  fettered 
by  the  body  and  its  possessions,  and  by  so  many  other 
things  as  are  thus  made  needful  for  the  daily  pur- 
suits of  life,  they  should  resolve  to  throw  them  all  off, 
as  both  troublesome  and  useless,  and  depart  to  their 
divine  kindred. 

This  is  the  work,  if  any,  that  ought  to  employ  your 
master  and  preceptor,  if  you  had  one,  that  you  should 
come  to  him,  and  say :  "  Epictetus,  we  can  no  longer 
bear  being  tied  down  to  this  poor  body ;  feeding,  and 
resting,  and  cleaning  it,  and  vexed  with  so  many  low 
cares  on  its  account.  Are  not  these  things  indiffer- 
ent, and  nothing  to  us ;  and  death  no  evil  ?  Are  we 
not  of  kindred  to  God ;  and  did  we  not  come  from 
him  ?  Suffer  us  to  go  back  thither  from  whence  we 
came  :  suffer  us  at  length  to  be  delivered  from  these 
fetters  that  bind  and  weigh  us  down.  Here  thieves 
and  robbers,  courts  and  tyrants,  claim  power  over  us, 
through  the  body  and  its  possessions.  Suffer  us  to 
show  them  that  they  have  no  power.' ' 

And  in  this  case  it  would  be  my  part  to  answer  : 
"  My  friends,  wait  for  God  till  he  shall  give  the  sig- 
nal, and  dismiss  you  from  this  service ;  then  return 
to  him.  For  the  present,  be  content  to  remain  at  this 
post,  where  he  has  placed  you.  The  time  of  your 
abode  here  is  short  and  easy,  to  such  as  are  disposed 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  31 

like  you  ;  for  what  tyrant,  what  robber,  what  thief  or 
what  court  can  be  formidable  to  those  who  thus  count 
for  nothing  the  body  and  its  possessions.  Stay,  nor 
foolishly  depart." 

Thus  ought  the  case  to  stand  between  a  preceptor 
and  ingenuous  young  men.  But  how  stands  it  now  ? 
The  preceptor  has  no  life  in  him ;  and  you  have 
none.  When  you  have  had  enough  to-day,  you  sit 
weeping  about  to-morrow,  how  you  shall  get  food. 
Why,  if  you  have  it,  slave,  you  will  have  it ;  if  not, 
you  will  go  out  of  life.  The  door  is  open ;  why  do 
you  lament ;  what  room  remains  for  tears ;  what  oc- 
casion for  flattery  ?  Why  should  any  one  person  envy 
another?  Why  should  he  be  impressed  with  awe 
by  those  who  have  great  possessions,  or  are  placed 
in  high  rank  ?  especially,  if  they  are  powerful  and 
passionate  ?  For  what  will  they  do  to  us  ?  The 
things  which  they  can  do,  we  do  not  regard :  the 
things  about  which  we  are  concerned,  they  cannot 
reach.  Who  then,  after  all,  shall  hold  sway  over  a 
person  thus  disposed  ?  How  behaved  Socrates  in  re- 
gard to  these  things  ?  As  it  became  one  conscious 
of  kinship  with  the  gods.     He  said  to  his  judges :  — 

"  If  you  should  tell  me,  '  We  will  acquit  you,  upon 
condition  that  you  shall  no  longer  discourse  in  the 
manner  you  have  hitherto  done,  nor  make  any  dis- 
turbance either  among  our  young  or  our  old  people '; 
I  would  answer :  '  You  are  ridiculous  in  thinking, 
that  if  your  general  had  placed  me  in  any  post,  I 
ought  to  maintain  and  defend  it,  and  choose  to  die 
a  thousand  times,  rather  than  desert  it ;  but  that  if 
God  hath  assigned  me  any  station  or  method  of  life, 
I  ought  to  desert  that  for  you/  " 

This  it  is,  for  a  man  to  truly  recognize  his  relation- 


32  THE  MSCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

ship  with  God.  But  we  habitually  think  of  ourselves 
as  mere  stomach  and  intestines  and  bodily  parts.  Be- 
cause we  fear,  because  we  desire,  we  flatter  those  who 
can  help  us  in  these  matters  ;  we  dread  them  too. 

A  person  desired  me  once  to  write  for  him  to  Rome. 
He  was  one  vulgarly  esteemed  unfortunate,  as  he  had 
been  formerly  illustrious  and  rich,  and  was  after- 
wards stripped  of  all  his  possessions,  and  reduced  to 
live  here.  I  wrote  for  him  in  a  submissive  style; 
but,  after  reading  my  letter,  he  returned  it  to  me, 
and  said :  "  I  wanted  your  assistance,  not  your  pity ; 
for  no  evil  hath  befallen  me." 

Thus  Rufus,  to  try  me,  used  to  say,  this  or  that  you 
will  have  from  your  master.  When  I  answered  him, 
these  are  mere  human  affairs ;  Why  then,  says  he, 
should  I  intercede  with  him,*  when  you  can  receive 
from  yourself  things  more  important?  For  what 
one  hath  of  his  own,  it  is  superfluous  and  vain  to  re- 
ceive from  another.  Shall  I  then,  who  can  receive 
nobleness  and  a  manly  spirit  from  myself,  receive  an 
estate,  or  a  sum  of  money,  or  a  place,  from  you? 
Heaven  forbid !  I  will  not  be  so  insensible  of  my  own 
possessions.  But,  if  a  person  is  fearful  and  abject, 
what  else  is  necessary,  but  to  apply  for  permission  to 
bury  him  as  if  he  were  dead.  "  Please  forward  to  us 
the  corpse  of  such  a  one."  For,  in  fact,  such  a  one  is 
that,  and  nothing  more.  For,  if  he  were  anything 
more,  he  would  be  sensible  that  man  is  not  to  be 
made  miserable  at  the  will  of  his  fellow-man. 

*  This  is  a  disputed  passage,  and  something  is  probably  lost.  The 
above  version  mainly  follows  Upton  and  Mrs.  Carter.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  33 

CHAPTER    X. 

CONCERNING    THOSE    WHO    SEEK   PREFERMENT   AT   ROME. 

IF  we  all  applied  ourselves  as  heartily  to  our  proper 
business,  as  the  old  politicians  at  Rome  to  their 
schemes,  perhaps  we  too  might  make  some  profi- 
ciency. I  know  a  man  older  than  I  am,  who  is  now 
a  commissary  at  Rome.  "When  he  passed  through 
this  place,  on  his  return  from  exile,  what  an  account 
did  he  give  me  of  his  former  life !  and  how  did  he 
promise,  that  for  the  future,  when  he  had  returned, 
he  would  apply  himself  to  nothing  but  how  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  his  days  in  repose  and  tranquillity. 
"  For  how  few  have  I  now  remaining !  "  he  said.  — 
You  will  not  do  it,  said  I.  When  you  are  once  with- 
in reach  of  Rome,  you  will  forget  all  this  ;  and,  if  you 
can  but  once  gain  admittance  to  court,  you  will  be 
rejoiced  and  thank  God.  "  If  you  ever  find  me,  Epic- 
tetus,"  said  he,  "putting  one  foot  into  the  court, 
think  of  me  whatever  you  please.,,  Now,  after  all, 
how  did  he  act  ?  Before  he  entered  the  city,  he  was 
met  by  a  billet  from  Caesar.  On  receiving  it,  he  for- 
got all  his  former  resolutions;  and  has  ever  since 
been  accumulating  business  upon  himself.  I  should 
be  glad  now  to  have  an  opportunity  of  putting  him  in 
mind  of  his  discourse  upon  the  road ;  and  of  point- 
ing out  by  how  much  I  was  the  truer  prophet. 

What  then  do  I  say  ?  that  man  is  made  for  an  in- 
active life  ?  No,  surely.  But  why  is  not  ours  a  life 
of  action  ?  For  my  own  part,  I  wake  at  dawn  to  rec- 
ollect what  things  I  am  to  read  over  again  [with  my 
pupils],  and  then  say  to  myself  quickly,  What  is  it  to 


34  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

me  bow  such  a  one  reads  ?    My  present  business  is  to 
sleep. 

Yet  what  likeness  is  there  between  their  kind  of 
activity  and  ours  ?  If  you  consider  what  it  is  they 
do,  you  will  see.  For  about  what  are  they  employed 
the  whole  day,  but  in  calculating,  contriving,  con- 
sulting, about  provisions,  about  an  estate,  or  other  in- 
terests like  these  ?  Is  there  any  likeness,  then,  be- 
tween reading  such  a  petition  from  any  one,  as,  "  I 
entreat  you  to  give  me  a  permission  to  export  corn  "; 
and,  "  I  entreat  you  to  learn  from  Chrysippus,  what 
]the  administration  of  the  universe  is ;  and  what  place 
a  reasonable  creature  holds  in  it.  Learn,  too,  what 
you  yourself  are ;  and  wherein  your  good  and  evil 
consist."  Are  these  things  at  all  alike  ?  Do  they 
require  an  equal  degree  of  application  ?  And  is  it  as 
shameful  to  neglect  the  one  as  the  other  ? 
'  Well,  then,  are  we  older  men  the  only  idle  dream 
ers  ?  No :  but  you  young  men  are  so  hi  a  greater 
degree.  And  as  we  old  folks,  when  we  see  young 
ones  trifling,  are  tempted  to  trifle  with  them;  so, 
much  more,  if  I  were  to  see  you  earnest  and  ardent, 
I  should  be  excited  to  labor  with  you. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

OP  NATURAL   AFFECTION. 

WHEN  an  important  personage  once  came  to  visit 
him,  Epictetus,  having  inquired  into  the  par- 
ticulars of  his  affairs,  asked  him,  Whether  he  had  a 
wife  and  children  ?  The  other  replying  that  he  had, 
Epictetus  likewise  inquired,  In  what  manner  do  you 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  35 

live  with  them  ?  "  Very  miserably,"  says  he.  — How 
so  ?  For  men  do  not  marry,  and  get  children,  to  be 
miserable ;  but  rather  to  make  themselves  happy.  — 
"  But  I  am  so  very  miserable  about  my  children,  that 
the  other  day,  when  my  daughter  was  sick,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  in  danger,  I  could  not  bear  even  to  be 
with  her ;  but  ran  away,  till  it  was  told  me,  that  she 
was  recovered."  —  And  pray  do  you  think  this  was 
acting  right?  —  "It  was  acting  naturally,"  said  he. 
—  Well  ?  do  but  convince  me  that  it  was  acting  nat- 
urally, and  I  can  as  well  convince  you,±hat  everything 
natural  is  right.  — "  All,  or  most  of  us  fathers,  are 
affected  in  the  same  way."  —  I  do  not  deny  the  fact; 
but  the  question  between  us  is,  whether  it  be  right. 
For  by  this  way  of  reasoning,  it  must  be  said,  that 
diseases  happen  for  the  good  of  the  body,  because 
they  do  happen  ;  and  even  that  vices  are  natural,  be- 
cause all,  or  most  of  us,  are  guilty  of  them.  Do  you 
show  me  then,  how  such  a  behavior  as  yours  appears 
to  be  natural. 

"  I  cannot  undertake  that.  But  do  you  rather 
show  me,  that  it  is  neither  natural  nor  right." 

If  we  were  disputing  about  black  and  white,  what 
criterion  must  we  call  in,  to  distinguish  them  ? 

"  The  sight." 

If  about  hot  and  cold,  or  hard  and  soft,  what  ? 

"  The  touch." 

Well  then  ?  when  we  are  debating  about  natural 
and  unnatural,  and  right  and  wrong ;  what  criterion 
are  we  to  take  ? 

"  I  cannot  tell 

And  yet  to  be  ignorant  of  a  criterion  of  colors,  or 
of  smells,  or  tastes,  might  perhaps  be  no  very  great 
loss.     But  do  you  think,  that  he  suffers  only  a  small 


6b  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

loss,  who  is  ignorant  of  what  is  good  and  evil,  and 
natural  and  unnatural  to  man  ? 

"  No.     The  very  greatest." 

Well ;  tell  me ;  are  all  things  which  are  judged 
good  and  proper  by  some,  rightly  judged  to  be  so? 
Thus,  is  it  possible,  that  the  several  opinions  of  Jews, 
and  Syrians,  and  Egyptians,  and  Romans,  concerning 
food,  should  all  be  right  ? 

"How  can  it  be  possible  ?  " 

I  suppose  then,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that,  if  the 
opinions  of  the  Egyptians  be  right,  the  others  must 
be  wrong ;  if  those  of  the  Jews  be  good,  all  the  rest 
must  be  bad. 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ? " 

And  where  ignorance  is,  there  likewise  is  want  of 
wisdom  and  instruction  in  the  most  necessary  points. 

"  It  is  granted." 

Then  as  you  are  sensible  of  this,  you  will  for  the 
future  apply  to  nothing,  and  think  of  nothing  else, 
but  how  to  learn  the  criterion  of  what  is  agreeable  to 
nature ;  and  to  use  that,  in  judging  of  each  particular 
case. 

At  present  the  assistance  I  have  to  give  you,  to- 
wards what  you  desire,  is  this.  Does  affection  seem 
to  you  to  be  a  right  and  a  natural  thing  ? 

"  How  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  " 

Well  j  and  is  affection  natural  and  right,  and 
reason  not  so  ? 

"  By  no  means." 

Is  there  any  opposition,  then,  between  reason  and 
affection  ? 

"  I  think  not." 

Suppose  there  were :  if  one  of  two  opposites  be  nat- 
ural, the  other  must  necessarily  be  unnatural.  Must 
it  not? 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  37 

"  It  must." 

What  we  find,  then,  to  accord  at  once  with  love  and 
reason,  that  we  may  safely  pronounce  to  be  right  and 
good. 

"  Agreed." 

Well,  then :  you  will  not  dispute  this,  that  to  run 
away,  and  leave  a  sick  child,  is  contrary  to  reason. 
It  remains  for  us  to  consider,  whether  it  be  consistent 
with  affection. 

"  Let  us  consider  it." 

Did  you,  then,  from  an  affection  to  your  child,  do 
right  in  running  away,  and  leaving  her?  Has  her 
mother  no  affection  for  the  child  ? 

"  Yes,  surely,  she  has." 

Would  it  have  been  right,  then,  that  her  mother 
too  should  leave  her ;   or  would  it  not  ? 

"  It  would  not." 

And  does  not  her  nurse  love  her  ? 

"  She  does." 

Then  ought  she  likewise  to  leave  her  ? 

"  By  no  means." 

And  does  not  her  preceptor  love  her  ? 

"  He  does." 

Then  ought  he  also  to  have  run  away,  and  left 
her ;  the  child  being  thus  left  alone  and  unassisted, 
from  the  great  affection  of  her  .parents,  and  her 
friends ;  or  left  to  die  among  people,  who  neither 
loved  her,  nor  took  care  of  her? 

"  Heaven  forbid !  " 

But  is  it  not  unreasonable  and  unjust,  that  what 
you  think  right  in  yourself,  on  account  of  your  affec- 
tion, should  not  be  allowed  to  others,  who  have  the 
very  same  affection  with  you  ? 

"  It  is  absurd." 


38  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

Pray,  if  you  were  sick  yourself,  should  you  be  will- 
ing to  have  your  family,  and  even  your  wife  and 
children,  so  very  affectionate,  as  to  leave  you  help- 
less and  alone  ? 

"  By  no  means." 

Or  would  you  wish  to  be  so  loved  by  your  friends, 
as  from  their  excessive  affection  always  to  be  left 
alone  when  you  were  sick  ?  Or  would  you  not  re- 
joice, if  it  were  possible,  to  have  such  a  kind  of  af- 
fection from  your  enemies,  as  to  make  them  thus  let 
you  alone?  If  so,  it  remains,  that  your  behaviour 
was  by  no  means  affectionate.  But  now,  was  there 
no  other  motive  that  induced  you  to  desert  your 
child  ? 

"  How  is  that  possible  ? " 

I  mean  some  such  motive  as  induced  a  person  at 
Rome  to  hide  his  face  while  a  horse  was  running,  to 
which  he  earnestly  wished  success ;  and  when,  beyond 
his  expectation,  it  won  the  race,  he  was  obliged  him- 
self to  be  sponged,  to  recover  from  Ins  faintness. 

"  And  what  was  this  motive  ?  " 

At  present,  perhaps,  it  cannot  be  made  clear  to  you. 
It  is  sufficient  to  be  convinced,  if  what  philosophers 
say  be  true,  that  we  are  not  to  seek  any  motive  mere- 
ly from  without ;  but  that  there  is  the  same  [unseen] 
motive  in  all  cases,  which  moves  us  to  do  or  forbear 
any  action ;  to  speak  or  not  to  speak ;  to  be  elated  or 
depressed;  to  avoid  or  pursue:  that  very  impulse 
which  hath  now  moved  us  two ;  you,  to  come,  and 
sit  and  hear  me  ;  and  me,  to  speak  as  I  do. 

"And  what  is  that?" 

Is  it  anything  else,  than  that  it  seemed  right  to  us 
to  do  so  ? 

"Nothing  else." 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPlCTETUS.  89 

And  if  it  had  seemed  otherwise  to  Us,  what  else 
should  we  have  done,  than  what  we  thought  right  ? 
This,  and  not  the  death  of  Patroclus,  was  the  real 
source  of  the  lamentation  of  Achilles,  —  for  every 
man  is  not  thus  affected  by  the  death  of  a  friend,  — 
that  it  seemed  right  to  him.  This  too  was  the  cause 
of  your  running  away  from  your  child,  that  it  then 
seemed  right ;  and  if  hereafter  you  should  stay  with 
her,  it  will  be  because  that  seems  right.  You  are 
now  returning  to  Rome,  because  it  seems  right  to 
you ;  but  if  you  should  alter  your  opinion,  you  will 
not  return.  In  a  word,  neither  death,  nor  exile,  nor 
pain,  nor  anything  of  this  kind,  is  the  real  cause  of 
our  doing  or  not  doing  any  action :  but  our  inward 
opinions  and  principles.  Do  I  convince  you  of  this, 
or  not  ? 

«  You  do." 

Well  then :  such  as  the  cause  is,  such  will  be  the 
effect.  From  this  day  forward,  then,  whenever  we  do 
anything  wrong,  we  will  impute  it  to  the  wrong  prin- 
ciple from  which  we  act ;  and  we  will  endeavor  to  re- 
move and  extirpate  that,  with  greater  care  than  we 
would  remove  wens  and  tumors  from  the  body.  In 
like  manner,  we  will  ascribe  what  we  do  right,  to  the 
same  cause  ;  and  we  will  accuse  neither  servant,  nor 
ueighbor,  nor  wife,  nor  children,  as  the  cause  of  any 
evil  to  us  ;  persuaded  that  if  we  had  not  accepted  such 
principles,  we  should  not  carry  them  to  such  conse- 
quences. The  control  of  these  principles  lies  in  us, 
and  not  in  any  outward  things.  Of  these  principles 
we  ourselves,  and  not  externals,  are  the  masters. 

"  Agreed." 

From  this  day,  then,  we  will  not  so  closely  inquire 
as  to  any  external  conditions,  —  estate,  or  slaves,  or 


40  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

horses,  or  dogs,  —  but  only  make  sure  of  our  own 
principles. 

"  Such  is  my  desire,"  said  the  visitor. 

You  see,  then,  that  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  be- 
come a  student,  that  being  whom  every  one  laughs 
at,  if  you  really  desire  to  make  an  examination  of 
your  own  principles.  But  this,  as  you  should  know, 
is  not  the  work  of  an  hour  or  a  day. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

OF  CONTENTMENT. 

CONCERNING  the  gods,  some  affirm,  that  there  is 
no  deity  ;  others,  that  he  indeed  exists,  but  is 
slothful,  negligent,  and  without  providential  care  ;  a 
third  class  admits  both  his  being  and  his  providence, 
but  only  in  respect  to  great  and  heavenly  objects,  not 
earthly ;  a  fourth  recognizes  him  both  in  heaven  and 
earth,  but  only  in  general,  not  individual  matters; 
a  fifth,  like  Ulysses  and  Socrates,  says,  "  I  cannot  be 
hid  from  thee  in  any  of  my  motions.' '  * 

It  is,  before  all  things,  necessary  to  examine  each 
of  these  opinions  ;  which  is,  and  which  is  not  rightly 
spoken.  Now,  if  there  are  no  gods,  wherefore  serve 
them  ?  If  there  are,  but  they  take  no  care  of  any- 
thing, how  is  the  case  bettered  ?  Or,  if  they  both  are, 
and  take  care  ;  yet,  if  there  is  nothing  communicated 
from  them  to  men,  and  therefore  certainly  nothing  to 
me,  how  much  better  is  it  ?  A  wise  and  good  man, 
after  examining  these  things,  submits  his  mind  to 
Him  who  administers  the  whole,  as  good  citizens  do 
to  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth. 

*  Xenophon,  Mem.  I.  1 ;  Homer,  Iliad,  X.  278.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  41 

He,  then,  who  comes  to  be  instructed,  ought  to 
come  with  this  aim  :  "  How  may  I  in  everything  fol- 
low the  gods  ?  How  may  I  acquiesce  in  the  divine 
administration  ?  And  how  may  I  be  free  ?  "  For  he 
is  free,  to  whom  all  happens  agreeably  to  his  desire, 
and  whom  no  one  can  unduly  restrain. 

"  What  then,  is  freedom  mere  license  ?  " 

By  no  means  ;  for  madness  and  freedom  are  in- 
compatible. 

"  But  I  would  have  that  happen  which  appears  to 
me  desirable  ;  however  it  comes  to  appear  so." 

You  are  mad :  you  have  lost  your  senses.  Do  not 
you  know,  that  freedom  is  a  very  beautiful  and  valu- 
able thing  ?  But  for  me  to  choose  at  random,  and 
for  things  to  happen  agreeably  to  such  a  choice,  may 
be  so  far  from  a  beautiful  thing,  as  to  be,  of  all  oth- 
ers, the  most  undesirable.  For  how  do  we  proceed 
in  writing  ?  Do  I  choose  to  write  the  name  of  Dion 
(for  instance)  as  I  will  ?  No  ;  but  I  am  taught  to  be 
willing  to  write  it  as  it  ought  to  be  written.  And 
what  is  the  case  in  music  ?  The  same.  And  what 
in  every  other  art  or  science  ?  Otherwise,  it  would 
be  of  no  purpose  to  learn  anything,  if  it  were  to  be 
adapted  to  each  one's  particular  humor.  Is  it  then 
only  in  the  greatest  and  principal  matter,  that  of 
freedom,  permitted  me  to  desire  at  random  ?  By  no 
means ;  but  true  instruction  is  this,  —  learning  to 
desire  that  things  should  happen  as  .they  do.  And 
how  do  they  happen  ?  As  the  appointer  of  them  hath 
appointed.  He  hath  appointed,  that  there  should  be 
summer  and  winter,  plenty  and  dearth,  virtue  and 
vice,  and  all  such  contrarieties,  for  the  harmony  of 
the  whole.  To  each  of  us  he  has  given  a  body  and 
its  parts,  and  our  several  possessions  and  companions. 


42  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

Mindful  of  this  appointment,  we  should  enter  upon  a 
course  of  education  and  instruction,  not  in  order  to 
change  the  constitution  of  things ;  —  a  gift  neither 
practicable  nor  desirable  ;  —  but  that  things  being  as 
they  are  with  regard  to  us,  we  may  have  our  mind 
accommodated  to  the  facts.  Can  we,  for  instance, 
flee  from  mankind  ?  How  is  that  possible  ?  Can  we, 
by  conversing  with  them,  transform  them?  Who 
has  given  us  such  a  power  ?  What  then  remains,  or 
what  method  is  there  to  be  found,  for  such  a  com- 
merce with  them,  that,  while  they  act  according  to 
the  appearances  in  their  own  minds,  we  may  never- 
theless be  affected  conformably  to  nature  ? 

But  you  are  wretched  and  discontented.  If  you 
are  alone,  you  term  it  a  desert ;  and  if  with  men, 
you  call  them  cheats  and  robbers.  You  find  fault 
too  with  your  parents,  and  children,  and  brothers, 
and  neighbors.  Whereas  you  ought,  if  you  live  alone, 
to  call  that  repose  and  freedom,  and  to  esteem  your- 
self as  resembling  the  gods ;  and  when  you  are  in 
company,  not  to  call  it  a  crowd,  and  a  tumult,  and  a 
trouble,  but  an  assembly,  and  a  festival ;  and  thus  to 
take  all  things  contentedly.  What  then,  is  the  pun- 
ishment of  those  who  do  not  so  accept  them  ?  To  be 
—  as  they  are.  Is  any  one  discontented  with  being 
alone  ?  Let  him  remain  in  his  desert.  Discontented 
with  his  parents  ?  Let  him  be  a  bad  son  ;  and  let 
him  mourn.  Discontented  with  his  children  ?  Let 
him  be  a  bad  father.  Shall  we  throw  him  into  pris- 
on ?  What  prison  ?  Where  he  already  is,  for  he  is 
in  a  situation  against  his  will,  and  wherever  any  one 
is  against  his  will,  that  is  to  him  a  prison ;  just  as 
Socrates  was  not  truly  in  prison,  for  he  was  willingly 
there. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  43 

"  What,  then,  must  my  leg  be  lame  ? " 

And  is  it  for  one  paltry  leg,  wretch,  that  you  ac- 
cuse the  universe  ?  Can  you  not  forego  that,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  whole  ?  Can  you  not  give  up  some- 
thing ?  Can  you  not  gladly  yield  it  to  him  who  gave 
it?  And  will  you  be  angry  and  discontented  with 
the  decrees  of  Zeus ;  which  he,  with  the  Fates,  who 
spun  in  his  presence  the  thread  of  your  birth,  or- 
dained and  appointed  ?  Do  not  you  know  how  very 
small  a  part  you  are  of  the  whole  ?  That  is,  as  to 
body ;  for,  as  to  reason,  you  are  neither  worse,  nor 
less,  than  divine.  For  reason  is  not  measured  by  size 
or  height,  but  by  principles.  Will  you  not  therefore 
place  your  good  there,  where  you  share  with  the 
gods? 

"  But  how  wretched  am  I,  in  such  a  father  and 
mother ! " 

What,  then,  was  it  granted  you  to  come  before- 
hand, and  make  your  own  terms,  and  say,  "  Let 
such  and  such  persons,  at  this  hour,  be  the  authors 
of  my  birth  "  ?  It  was  not  granted ;  for  it  was  ne- 
cessary that  your  parents  should  exist  before  you,  and 
so  you  be  born  afterwards.  —  Of  whom  ?  —  Of  just 
such  as  they  were.  What,  then,  since  they  are  such, 
is  there  no  remedy  afforded  you  ?  Surely,  you  would 
be  wretched  and  miserable,  if  you  knew  not  the  use 
of  sight,  and  shut  your  eyes  in  presence  of  colors ; 
and  are  not  you  more  wretched  and  miserable,  in  be- 
ing ignorant,  that  you  have  within  you  the  needful 
nobleness  and  manhood  wherewith  to  meet  these  ac- 
cidents? Events  proportioned  to  your  reason  are 
brought  before  you;  but  you  turn  it  away,  at  the 
very  time  when  you  ought  to  have  it  the  most  open 
and  discerning.     Why  do  not  you  rather  thank  the 


44  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

gods,  that  they  have  made  you  superior  to  those 
events  which  they  have  not  placed  within  your  own 
control ;  and  have  rendered  you  accountable  for  that 
only,  which  is  within  your  own  control?  Of  your 
parents  they  acquit  you,  as  not  accountable  :  of  your 
brothers  they  acquit  you ;  of  body,  possessions,  death, 
life,  they  acquit  you.  For  what,  then,  have  they 
made  you  accountable  ?  For  that  which  is  alone 
in  your  own  power;  a  right  use  of  things  as  they 
appear.  Why,  then,  should  you  draw  those  cares 
upon  yourself,  for  which  you  are  not  accountable  ? 
This  is  giving  one's  self  vexation,  without  need. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

HOW    EVERYTHING    MAT   BE    PERFORMED    TO    THE    DIVINE 
ACCEPTANCE. 

WHEN  a  person  inquired,  how  any  one  might  eat 
to  the  divine  acceptance ;  if  he  eats  with  jus- 
tice, said  Epictetus,  and  with  gratitude,  and  fairly,  ancl 
temperately,  and  decently,  must  he  not  also  eat  to 
the  divine  acceptance  ?  And  if  you  call  for  hot  water, 
and  your  servant  does  not  hear  you ;  or,  if  he  does, 
brings  it  only  warm ;  or  perhaps  is  not  to  be  found 
at  home  ;  then  to  abstain  from  anger  or  petulance,  is 
not  this  to  the  divine  acceptance  ? 

"  But  how,  then,  can  one  bear  such  things  ?  " 
0  slavish  man !  will  you  not  bear  with  your  own 
brother,  who  has  God  for  his  Father,  as  being  a  son 
from  the  same  stock,  and  of  the  same  high  descent  ? 
But,  if  you  chance  to  be  placed  in  some  superior  sta- 
tion, will  you  presently  set  yourself  up  for  a  tyrant  ? 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  45 

Will  you  not  remember  what  you  are,  and  over  whom 
you  bear  rule  ?  That  they  are  by  nature  your  rela- 
tions, your  brothers ;  that  they  are  the  offspring  of 
God? 

"  But  I  have  them  by  right  of  purchase,  and  not 
they  me." 

Do  you  see  what  it  is  you  regard  ?  Your  regards 
look  downward  towards  the  earth,  and  what  is  lower 
than  earth,  and  towards  the  unjust  laws  of  men  long 
dead  ;  but  up  towards  the  divine  laws  you  never  turn 
your  eyes. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THAT  ALL   THINGS  ARE  UNDER   THE    DIVINE    SUPERVISION. 

WHEN  a  person  asked  him,  how  any  one  might 
be  convinced  that  his  every  act  is  under  the 
supervision  of  God?  Do  not  you  think,  said  Epic- 
tetus,  that  all  things  are  mutually  connected  and 
united  ? 

"  I  do." 

Well ;  and  do  not  you  think,  that  things  on  earth 
feel  the  influence  of  the  heavenly  powers  ? 

"  Yes." 

Else  how  is  it  that  in  their  season,  as  if  by  express 
command,  God  bids  the  plants  to  blossom  and  they 
blossom,  to  bud  and  they  bud,  to  bear  fruit  and  they 
bear  it,  to  ripen  it  and  they  ripen  ;  —  and  when  again 
he  bids  them  drop  their  leaves,  and  withdrawing  into 
themselves  to  rest  and  wait,  they  rest  and  wait? 
Whence  again  are  there  seen,  on  the  increase  and  de- 
crease of  the  moon,  and  the  approach  and  departure 
of  the  sun,  so  great  changes  and  transformations  in 


46  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

earthly  things  ?     Have  then  the  very  leaves,  and  our 
own  bodies,  this  connection  and  sympathy  with  the 
whole  ;  and  have  not  our  souls  much  more  ?     But 
our  souls  are  thus  connected  and  intimately  joined  to 
God,  as  being  indeed  members  and  distinct  portions 
of  his  essence  ;  and  must  not  he  be  sensible  of  every 
movement  of  them,  as  belonging  and  connatural  to 
himself?     Can  even  you  think  of  the  divine  adminis- 
tration, and  every  other  divine  subject,  and  together 
with  these  of  human  affairs  also  ;  can  you  at  once 
receive  impressions  on  your  senses  and  your  under- 
standing, from  a  thousand  objects ;   at  once  assent  to 
some  things,  deny  or  suspend  your  judgment  concern- 
ing others,  and  preserve  in  your  mind  impressions 
from  so  many  and  various  objects,  by  whose  aid  you 
can  revert  to  ideas  similar  to  those  which  first  im- 
pressed you  ?     Can  you  retain  a  variety  of  arts  and 
the  memorials  of  ten  thousand  things  ?     And  is  not 
God  capable  of  surveying  all  things,  and  being  pres- 
ent with  all,  and  in  communication  with  all  ?     Is  the 
sun  capable  of  illuminating  so  great  a  portion  of  the 
universe,  and  of  leaving  only  that  small  part  of  it  un- 
illuminated,  which  is  covered  by  the  shadow  of  the 
earth,  —  and  cannot  He  who  made  and  moves  the 
sun,  a  small  part  of  himself,  if  compared  with  the 
whole,  —  cannot  he  perceive  all  things  ? 

"  But  I  cannot,"  say  you,  "  attend  to  all  things  at 
once."  Who  asserts  that  you  have  equal  power  with 
Zeus  ?  Nevertheless  he  has  assigned  to  each  man  a 
director,  his  own  good  genius,  and  committed  him  to 
that  guardianship ;  a  director  sleepless  and  not  to  be 
deceived.  To  what  better  and  more  careful  guardian 
could  he  have  committed  each  one  of  us  ?  So  that 
when  you  have  shut  your  doors,  and  darkened  your 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  47 

room,  remember,  never  to  say  that  you  are  alone  ; 
for  you  are  not  alone ;  but  God  is  within,  and  your 
genius  is  within ;  and  what  need  have  they  of  light, 
to  see  what  you  are  doing  ?  To  this  God  you  like- 
wise ought  to  swear  such  an  oath  as  the  soldiers  do  to 
Caesar.  For  they,  in  order  to  receive  their  pay,  swear 
to  prefer  before  all  things  the  safety  of  Caesar ;  and 
will  not  you  swear,  who  have  received  so  many  and 
so  great  favors ;  or,  if  you  have  sworn,  will  you  not 
fulfil  the  oath  ?  And  what  must  you  swear  ?  Never 
to  distrust,  nor  accuse,  nor  murmur  at  any  of  the 
things  appointed  by  him ;  nor  to  shrink  from  doing 
or  enduring  that  which  is  inevitable.  Is  this  oath 
like  the  former?  In  the  first  oath  persons  swear 
never  to  dishonor  Caesar ;  by  the  last,  never  to  dis- 
honor themselves. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

WHAT   PHILOSOPHY   PROMISES. 

WHEN  one  consulted  him,  how  he  might  per- 
suade his  brother  to  forbear  treating  him  ill ; 
—  Philosophy,  answered  Epictetus,  doth  not  promise 
to  procure  any  outward  good  for  man ;  otherwise  it 
would  admit  something  beyond  its  proper  theme. 
For  as  the  material  of  a  carpenter  is  wood ;  of  a 
statuary,  brass ;  so  of  the  art  of  living,  the  material 
is  each  man's  own  life. 

"  What,  then,  is  my  brother's  life  ?  " 

That,  again,  is  matter  for  his  own  art,  but  is  ex- 
ternal to  you ;  like  property,  health,  or  reputation. 
Philosophy  promises  none  of  these.     In  every  circum- 


48  THE  DISCOUKSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

stance  I  will  keep  my  will  in  harmony  with  nature. 
To  whom  belongs  that  will  ?  To  Him  in  whom  I 
exist. 

"  But  how,  then,  is  my  brother's  unkindness  to  be 
cured  ?  " 

Bring  him  to  me,  and  I  will  tell  him ;  but  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you  about  his  unkindness. 

But  the  inquirer  still  further  asking  for  a  rule  for 
self-government,  if  he  should  not  be  reconciled  ;  Epic- 
tetus  answered  thus  :  — 

No  great  thing  is  created  suddenly  ;  any  more  than 
a  bunch  of  grapes  or  a  fig.  If  you  tell  me,  that  you 
desire  a  fig,  I  answer  you,  that  there  must  be  time. 
Let  it  first  blossom,  then  bear  fruit,  then  ripen.  Since 
then,  the  fruit  of  a  fig-tree  is  not  brought  to  perfec- 
tion suddenly,  or  in  one  hour ;  do  you  think  to  pos- 
sess instantaneously  and  easily  the  fruit  of  the  human 
mind  ?     I  warn  you,  expect  it  not. 


CHAPTER    XVL 

OP  PROVIDENCE. 

BE  not  surprised,  if  other  animals  have  all  things 
necessary  to  the  body,  ready  provided  for  them, 
not  only  meat  and  drink,  but  lodging ;  if  they  want 
neither  shoes,  nor  bedding,  nor  clothes ;  while  we 
stand  in  need  of  all  these.  For  they  not  being  made 
for  themselves,  but  for  service,  it  was  not  fit  that  they 
should  be  so  formed  as  to  be  waited  on  by  others. 
For  consider  what  it  would  be  for  us  to  take  care, 
not  only  for  ourselves,  but  for  sheep  and  asses  too ; 
how  they  should  be  clothed,  how  shod,  and  how  they 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  49 

should  eat  and  drink.  But  as  soldiers  are  furnished 
ready  for  their  commander,  shod,  clothed,  and  armed, 
—  for  it  would  be  a  grievous  thing  for  a  colonel  to  be 
obliged  to  go  through  his  regiment  to  put  on  their 
clothes,  —  so  nature  has  furnished  these  useful  ani- 
mals, ready  provided,  and  standing  in  need  of  no  fur- 
ther care.  So  that  one  little  boy,  with  only  a  crook, 
drives  a  flock. 

But  we,  instead  of  being  thankful  for  this,  com- 
plain of  God,  that  there  is  not  the  same  kind  of  care 
taken  of  us  likewise.  And  yet,  good  Heaven  !  any 
one  thing  in  the  creation  is  sufficient  to  demonstrate 
a  Providence,  to  a  humble  and  grateful  mind.  Not 
to  instance  great  things,  the  mere  possibility  of  pro- 
ducing milk  from  grass,  cheese  from  milk,  and  wool 
from  skins ;  who  formed  and  planned  it  ?  No  one, 
say  you.  0  surprising  irreverence  and  dulness !  But 
come  ;  let  us  omit  the  primary  works  of  nature.  Let 
us  contemplate  her  merely  incidental  traits.  What 
is  more  useless  than  the  hairs  upon  one's  chin  ?  And 
yet  has  she  not  made  use  even  of  these,  in  the  most 
becoming  manner  possible  ?  Has  she  not  by  these  dis- 
tinguished the  sexes  ?  Does  not  nature  in  each  of  us 
call  out,  even  at  a  distance,  I  am  a  man ;  approach 
and  address  me  as  such  ;  inquire  no  further ;  see  the 
characteristic.  On  the  other  hand,  with  regard  to 
women,  as  she  has  mixed  something  softer  in  their 
voice,  so  she  has  deprived  them  of  a  beard.  But  no  ; 
[some  think]  this  living  being  should  have  been  left 
undistinguished,  and  each  of  us  should  be  obliged  to 
proclaim,  "  I  am  a  man !  "  But  why  is  not  this  char-, 
acteristic  beautiful  and  becoming,  and  venerable  ? 
How  much  more  beautiful  than  the  comb  of  cocks ; 
how  much    more  noble  than   the  mane   of  lions! 

4 


50  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

Therefore,  we  ought  to  preserve  the  characteristics, 
made  by  the  Creator ;  we  ought  not  to  reject  them, 
nor  confound,  as  much  as  in  us  lies,  the  distinct 
sexes. 

Are  these  the  only  works  of  Providence,  with  re- 
gard to  us  ?  And  what  speech  can  fitly  celebrate  their 
praise  ?  For,  if  we  had  any  understanding,  ought  we 
not,  both  in  public  and  in  private,  incessantly  to 
sing  and  praise  the  Deity,  and  rehearse  his  benefits  ? 
Ought  we  not,  whether  we  dig,  or  plough,  or  eat,  to 
sing  this  hymn  to  God  ?  Great  is  God,  who  has  sup- 
plied us  with  these  instruments  to  till  the  ground ; 
great  is  God,  who  has  given  us  hands  and  organs  of 
digestion ;  who  has  given  us  to  grow  insensibly,  to 
breathe  in  sleep.  These  things  we  ought  forever  to 
celebrate ;  but  to  make  it  the  theme  of  the  greatest 
and  divinest  hymn,  that  he  has  given  us  the  power  to 
appreciate  these  gifts,  and  to  use  them  well.  But  be- 
cause the  most  of  you  are  blind  and  insensible,  there 
must  be  some  one  to  fill  this  station,  and  lead  in  be- 
half of  all  men,  the  hymn  to  God ;  for  what  else  can  I 
do,  a  lame  old  man,  but  sing  hymns  to  God  ?  Were 
I  a  nightingale,  I  would  act  the  part  of  a  nightin- 
gale ;  were  I  a  swan,  the  part  of  a  swan.  But  since 
I  am  a  reasonable  creature,  it  is  my  duty  to  praise 
God.  This  is  my  business.  I  do  it.  Nor  will  I  ever 
desert  this  post,  so  long  as  it  is  permitted  me ;  and  I 
call  on  you  to  join  in  the  same  song. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  51 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

THAT   THE   ART    OP   REASONING   IS   NECESSARY. 

SINCE  it  is  Reason  which  shapes  and  regulates  all 
other  things,  it  ought  not  itself  to  be  left  in  dis- 
order. But  by  what  shall  it  be  regulated?  Evi- 
dently, either  by  itself,  or  by  something  else.  Well ; 
either  that  too  is  Reason,  or  something  else  superior 
to  Reason,  which  is  impossible ;  and,  if  it  be  Reason, 
what  again  shall  regulate  that  ?  For,  if  this  Reason 
can  regulate  itself,  so  can  the  former ;  and,  if  we  still 
require  any  further  agent,  the  series  will  be  infinite, 
and  without  end. 

"  But,"  say  you,  "  the  essential  thing  is  to  prescribe 
for  qualities  of  character." 

Would  you  hear  about  these,  therefore  ?  Well ; 
hear.  But  then,"  if  you  say  to  me,  that  you  cannot 
tell  whether  my  arguments  are  true  or  false  ;  and  if 
I  happen  to  express  myself  ambiguously,  and  you  bid 
me  make  it  clearer ;  I  will  then  at  once  show  you  that 
this  is  the  first  essential.  Therefore,  I  suppose,  they 
first  establish  the  art  of  reasoning ;  just  as,  before  the 
measuring  of  corn,  we  settle  the  measure.  For,  un- 
less we  first  determine  the  measure  and  the  weight, 
how  shall  we  be  able  to  measure  or  weigh  ?  Thus, 
in  the  present  case  ;  unless  we  have  first  learned,  and 
fixed,  that  which  is  the  criterion  of  other  things,  and 
by  which  other  things  are  learned,  how  shall  we  be 
able  accurately  to  learn  anything  else?  How  is  it 
possible  ?  Well ;  a  bushel-measure  is  only  wood,  a 
thing  of  no  value,  but  it  measures  corn.  And  logic 
is  of  no  value  in  itself ;  —  that  we  will  consider  here- 


52  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

after,  but  grant  it  now ;  —  it  is  enough  that  it  dis- 
tinguishes and  examines,  and,  as  one  may  say,  meas- 
ures and  weighs  all  other  things.  Who  says  this? 
Is  it  only  Chrysippus,  and  Zeno,  and  Cleanthes  ? 
Does  not  Antisthenes  say  it  ?  And  who  is  it  then, 
who  has  written,  that  the  beginning  of  a  right  edu- 
cation is  the  examination  of  words  ?  Does  not  Socra- 
tes say  it?  Of  whom,  then,  does  Xenophon  write, 
that  he  began  by  the  examination  of  words,  what  each 
signified  ? 

Is  this,  then,  the  great  and  admirable  thing,  to  un- 
derstand or  interpret  Chrysippus  ? 

Who  says  that  it  is  ?  But  what,  then,  is  the  ad- 
mirable thing  ? 

To  understand  the  will  of  nature. 

Well  then ;  do  you  conform  to  it  yourself  ?  In 
that  case,  what  need  have  you  for  any  one  else? 
For,  if  it  be  true,  that  men  err  but  unwillingly,  and 
if  you  have  learnt  the  truth,  you  must  needs  act 
rightly. 

But,  indeed,  I  do  not  conform  to  the  will  of  nature. 

Who,  then,  shall  interpret  that  ? 

They  say,  Chrysippus.  I  go  and  inquire  what  this 
interpreter  of  nature  says.  Soon  I  cannot  under- 
stand his  meaning.  I  seek  one  to  interpret  that.  I 
call  on  him  to  explain  everything  as  clearly  as  if  it 
were  in  Latin.  Yet  what  right  has  this  last  inter- 
preter to  boast  ?  Nor  has  Chrysippus  himself,  so 
long  as  he  only  interprets  the  will  of  nature,  and 
does  not  follow  it ;  and  much  less  has  his  interpreter.. 
For  we  have  no  need  of  Chrysippus,  on  his  own  ac- 
count ;  but  that,  by  his  means,  we  may  apprehend 
the  will  of  nature ;  just  as  no  one  values  a  diviner  on 
his  own  account,  but  that,  by  his  assistance,  men 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  53 

hope  to  understand  future  events  and  heavenly  indi- 
cations ;  nor  the  auguries,  on  their  own  account,  but 
on  account  of  what  is  signified  by  them ;  neither  is  it 
the  raven,  or  the  crow,  that  is  admired,  but  the  di- 
vine purposes  displayed  through  their  means.  Thus 
I  come  to  the  diviner  and  interpreter  of  these  higher 
things ;  and  say,  "  Inspect  the  auguries  for  me : 
what  is  signified  to  me  ?  "  Having  taken,  and  in- 
spected them,  he  thus  interprets  them.  You  have  a 
free  will,  0  man!  incapable  of  being  restrained  or 
compelled.  This  is  written  here  in  the  auguries.  I 
will  show  you  this,  first,  in  the  faculty  of  assent.  Can 
any  one  restrain  you  from  assenting  to  truth  ?  No 
one.  Can  any  one  compel  you  to  admit  a  falsehood  ? 
No  one.  You  see,  then,  that  you  have  here  a  free 
will,  incapable  of  being  restrained,  or  compelled,  or 
hindered.  Well ;  is  it  otherwise  with  regard  to  pur- 
suit and  desire  ?  What  can  displace  one  pursuit  ? 
Another  pursuit.  What,  desire  and  aversion  ?  An- 
other desire  and  another  aversion.  "  If  you  offer 
death  as  an  alternative,"  say  you,  you  compel  me. 
No ;  not  the  alternative  does  it,  but  your  conviction 
that  it  is  better  to  do  such  a  thing  than  to  die.  Here, 
again,  you  see  that  it  is  your  own  conviction  which 
compels  you ;  that  is,  choice  compels  choice.  For,  if 
God  had  constituted  that  portion  which  he  has  sep- 
arated from  his  own  essence,  and  given  to  us,  capable 
of  being  restrained  or  compelled,  either  by  himself,  or 
by  any  other,  he  would  not  have  been  God,  nor  have 
fitly  cared  for  us. 

These  things,  says  the  diviner,  I  find  in  the  augu- 
ries. These  things  are  announced  to  you.  If  you 
please,  you  are  free.  If  you  please,  you  will  have  no 
one  to  complain  of,  no  one  to  accuse.     All  will  be 


54  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

equally  according  to  your  own  mind,  and  to  the  mind 
of  God. 

For  the  sake  of  this  oracle,  I  go  to  this  diviner  and 
philosopher ;  admiring  not  alone  him  for  his  interpre- 
tation, but  also  the  things  which  he  interprets. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THAT  WE  OUGHT  NOT  TO  BE  ANGRY  WITH  THE  ERRING. 

IF  what  the  philosophers  say  be  true,  that  all  men's 
actions  proceed  from  one  source ;  that,  as  they 
assent,  from  a  persuasion  that  a  thing  is  so,  and 
dissent,  from  a  persuasion  that  it  is  not,  and  sus- 
pend their  judgment,  from  a  persuasion  that  it  is  un- 
certain ;  so,  likewise,  they  seek  a  thing,  from  a  per- 
suasion that  it  is  for  their  advantage  ;  —  and  it  is  im- 
possible to  esteem  one  thing  advantageous,  and  yet 
desire  another ;  to  esteem  one  thing  a  duty,  and  yet 
pursue  another ;  —  why,  after  all,  should  we  be  an- 
gry at  the  multitude  ? 

"  They  are  thieves  and  robbers. " 

What  do  you  mean  by  thieves  and  robbers  ?  They 
are  in  an  error  concerning  good  and  evil.  Ought 
you,  then,  to  be  angry,  or  rather  to  pity  them  ?  Do 
but  show  them  their  error,  and  you  will  see,  that 
they  will  amend  their  faults ;  but,  if  they  do  not  see 
the  error,  they  will  rise  no  higher  than  their  convic- 
tions. 

"  What,  then,  ought  not  this  thief  and  this  adul- 
terer to  be  destroyed  ? " 

Nay,  call  him  rather  one  who  errs  and  is  deceived 
in  things  of  the  greatest  importance  j  blinded,  not  in 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  55 

the  vision,  that  distinguishes  white  from  black,  but  in 
the  reason,  that  discerns  good  from  evil  ?  By  stating 
your  question  thus,  you  would  see  how  inhuman  it 
is  ;  and  just  as  if  you  should  say,  "  Ought  not  this 
blind,  or  that  deaf  man,  to  be  destroyed  ?  "  For,  if 
the  greatest  hurt  be  a  deprivation  of  the  most  valua- 
ble things,  and  the  most  valuable  thing  to  every  one 
be  rectitude  of  will ;  when  any  one  is  deprived  of  this, 
why,  after  all,  are  you  angry  ?  You  ought  not  to  be 
affected,  0  man !  contrary  to  nature,  by  the  evil 
deeds  of  another.  Pity  him  rather.  Yield  not  to 
hatred  and  anger ;  nor  say,  as  many  do,  "  What ! 
shall  these  execrable  and  odious  wretches  dare  to  act 
thus  ? "  Whence  have  you  so  suddenly  learnt  wis- 
dom? 

Why  are  we  thus  enraged  ?  Because  we  make 
idols  of  those  things  which  such  people  take  from  us. 
Make  not  an  idol  of  your  clothes,  and  you  will  not  be 
enraged  with  the  thief.  Make  not  an  idol-  of  a  wo- 
man's beauty,  and  you  will  not  be  enraged  with  an 
adulterer.  Know,  that  thief  and  adulterer  cannot 
reach  the  things  that  are  properly  your  own;  but 
those  only  which  belong  to  others,  and  are  not  within 
your  power.  If  you  can  give  up  these  things,  and 
look  upon  them  as  not  essential,  with  whom  will  you 
any  longer  be  enraged  ?  But  while  you  idolize  them, 
be  angry  with  yourself,  rather  than  with  others. 
Consider  the  case :  you  have  a  fine  suit  of  clothes ; 
your  neighbor  has  not.  You  have  a  casement ;  you 
want  to  air  them.  He  knows  not  in  what  the  good 
of  man  consists,  but  imagines  it  is  in  a  fine  suit  of 
clothes ;  just  as  you  imagine.  Shall  he  not  come 
and  take  them  away?  When  you  show  a  cake  to 
greedy  people,  and  are  devouring  it  all  yourself; 


56  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

would  not  you  have  them  snatch  it  from  you  ?  Do 
not  tempt  them.  Do  not  have  a  casement.  Do  not 
expose  your  clothes.  I,  too,  the  other  day,  had  an 
iron  lamp  burning  before  my  household  deities. 
Hearing  a  noise  at  the  window,  I  ran.  I  found  my 
lamp  was  stolen.  I  considered,  that  he  who  took  it 
away  did  nothing  unaccountable.  What  then  ?  I 
said,  to-morrow  you  shall  find  an  earthen  one ;  for 
a  man  loses  only  what  he  has.  —  "I  have  lost  my 
coat."  Ay ;  because  you  had  a  coat.  "  I  have  a 
pain  in  my  head."  You  certainly  can  have  none  in 
your  horns.  Why  then  are  you  out  of  humor  ?  For 
loss  and  pain  can  be  only  of  such  things  as  are  pos- 
sessed. 

But  the  tyrant  will  chain  —  what?  A  leg.  He 
will  take  away  —  what?  A  head.  What  is  there, 
then,  that  he  can  neither  chain  nor  take  away? 
The  free  will.  Hence  the  advice  of  the  ancients, — 
Know  thyself. 

"  What  then  ought  we  to  do  ? " 

Practise  yourself,  for  heaven's  sake,  in  little  things  ; 
and  thence  proceed  to  greater.  "  I  have  a  pain  in 
my  head."  Do  not  lament.  "  I  have  a  pain  in  my 
ear."  Dq  not  lament.  I  do  not  say  you  may  never 
groan  ;  but  do  not  groan  in  spirit ;  or,  if  your  ser- 
vant be  a  long  while  in  bringing  you  something  to 
bind  your  head,  do  not  croak  and  go  into  hysterics, 
and  say,  "  Everybody  hates  me."  For,  who  would 
not  hate  such  a  one  ? 

Relying  for  the  future  on  these  principles,  walk 
erect  and  free ;  not  trusting  to  bulk  of  body,  like  a 
wrestler  ;  for  one  should  not  be  unconquerable  in  the 
sense  that  an  ass  is. 

Who  then  is  unconquerable  ?    He  whom  the  inev- 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  57 

itable  cannot  overcome.  For  such  a  person  I  im- 
agine every  trial,  and  watch  him  as  an  athlete  in  each. 
He  has  been  victorious  in  the  first  encounter.  What 
will  he  do  in  the  second  ?  What,  if  he  should  be  ex- 
hausted by  the  heat  ?  What,  if  the  field  be  Olympia  ? 
And  so  in  other  trials.  If  you  throw  money  in  his 
way,  he  will  despise  it.  Is  he  proof  against  the  se- 
ductions of  women  ?  What  if  he  be  tested  by  fame, 
by  calumny,  by  praise,  by  death  ?  He  is  able  to  over- 
come them  all.  —  If  he  can  bear  sunshine  and  storm, 
discouragement  and  fatigue,  I  pronounce  him  an  ath- 
lete unconquered  indeed. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

OF   THE   RIGHT   TREATMENT    OP   TYRANTS. 

WHEN  a  person  is  possessed  of  some  personal 
advantage,  either  real  or  imaginary,  he  will 
necessarily  be  puffed  up  with  it,  unless  he  has  been 
well  instructed.  A  tyrant  openly  says,  "  I  am  su- 
preme over  all."  And  what  can  you  bestow  on  me  ? 
Can  you  exempt  my  desires  from  disappointment  ? 
How  should  you  ?  For  do  you  never  incur  what  you 
shun  ?  Are  your  own  aims  infallible  ?  Whence 
came  you  by  that  privilege  ?  Pray,  on  shipboard,  do 
you  trust  to  yourself,  or  to  the  pilot  ?  In  a  chariot, 
to  whom  but  the  driver  ?  And  to  whom  in  all  other 
arts?  Just  the  same.  In  what,  then,  does  your 
power  consist  ? 

"  All  men  pay  regard  to  me." 

So  do  I  to  my  desk.  I  wash  it,  and  wipe  it ;  and 
drive  a  nail  for  my  oil-flask. 


58  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

"  What,  then,  are  these  things  to  be  valued  beyond 
me?" 

No  ;  but  they  are  of  some  use  to  me,  and  therefore 
I  pay  regard  to  them.  Why,  do  I  not  pay  regard  to 
an  ass  ?  Do  I  not  wash  his  feet  ?  Do  I  not  clean 
him  ?  Do  not  you  know,  that  every  one  pays  such 
regard  even  to  himself ;  and  that  he  does  it  to  you, 
just  as  he  does  to  an  ass  ?  For  who  pays  regard  to 
you  as  a  man  ?  Show  that.  Who  would  wish  to  be 
like  you  ?  Who  would  desire  to  imitate  you,  as  he 
would  Socrates  ? 

"  But  I  can  take  off  your  head  ? " 

You  say  rightly.  I  had  forgot,  that  one  is  to  pay 
regard  to  you  as  to  a  fever,  or  the  cholera ;  and  that 
there  should  be  an  altar  erected  to  you,  as  there  is 
to  the  goddess  Fever  at  Rome. 

What  is  it,  then,  that  disturbs  and  terrifies  the 
multitude  ?  The  tyrant  and  his  guards  ?  By  no 
means.  What  is  by  nature  free,  cannot  be  disturbed 
or  restrained  by  anything  but  itself.  But  its  own 
convictions  disturb  it.  Thus,  when  the  tyrant  says 
to  any  one,  "  I  will  chain  your  leg,"  he  who  chiefly 
values  his  leg,  cries  out  for  pity;  while  he  who 
chiefly  values  his  own  free  will,  says,  "If  you  im- 
agine it  for  your  interest,  chain  it." 

"  What !  do  not  you  care  ?  " 

No ;  I  do  not  care. 

"  I  will  show  you  that  I  am  master." 

You  ?  How  should  you  ?  Zeus  has  set  me  free. 
What!  do  you  think  he  would  suffer  his  own  son 
to  be  enslaved  ?  You  are  master  of  my  carcass ; 
take  it. 

"  So  that,  when  you  come  into  my  presence,  you 
pay  no  regard  to  me  ? " 


THE  DISCOUESES   OF  EPICTETUS.  59 

No,  but  to  myself;  or,  if  you  will  have  me  recog- 
nize you  also,  I  will  do  it  as  if  you  were  a  piece  of 
furniture.  This  is  not  selfish  vanity ;  for  every  ani- 
mal is  so  constituted,  as  to  do  everything  for  itself. 
Even  the  sun  does  all  for  himself ;  and  for  that  mat- 
ter so  does  even  Zeus  himself.  But  when  he  would 
be  styled  the  dispenser  of  rain  and  plenty,  and  the 
father  of  gods  and  men,  you  see  that  he  cannot  at- 
tain these  offices  and  titles,  unless  he  contributes  to 
the  common  good.  And  he  has  universally  so  consti- 
tuted the  nature  of  every  reasonable  creature,  that  no 
one  can  attain  its  own  good  without  contributing 
something  for  the  good  of  all.  And  thus  it  becomes 
not  selfish  to  do  everything  for  one's  self.  For,  do 
you  expect,  that  a  man  should  desert  himself,  and  his 
own  concerns ;  when  all  beings  have  one  and  the 
same  original  instinct,  self-preservation  ?  What  fol- 
lows then  ?  That  where  we  recognize  those  absurd 
convictions,  which  treat  things  outward  as  if  they 
were  the  true  good  or  evil  of  life,  there  must  necessa- 
rily be  a  regard  paid  to  tyrants ;  and  I  wish  it  were 
to  tyrants  only,  and  not  to  the  very  officers  of  their 
bed-chamber  too.  For  how  wise  doth  a  man  grow 
on  a  sudden,  when  Caesar  has  made  him  his  flun- 
key ?  How  immediately  we  say,  "  Felicio  talked 
very  sensibly  to  me !  "  I  wish  he  were  turned  out  of 
office,  that  he  might  pnce  more  appear  to  you  the  fool 
he  is. 

Epaphroditus  owned  a  shoemaker ;  whom,  because 
he  was  good  for  nothing,  he  sold.  This  very  fellow 
being,  by  some  strange  luck,  bought  by  a  courtier, 
became  shoemaker  to  Caesar.  Then  you  might  have 
seen  how  Epaphroditus  honored  him.  "  How  is  good 
Felicio,  pray  ?  "     And,  if  any  of  us  asked,  what  the 


60  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

great  man  himself  was  about,  it  was  answered,  "  He 
is  consulting  about  affairs  with  Felicio."  Did  not  he 
sell  him  previously  as  good  for  nothing  ?  Who  then, 
has  all  on  a  sudden,  made  a  wise  man  of  him  ?  This 
it  is  to  reverence  externals. 

Is  any  one  exalted  to  the  office  of  tribune  ?  All 
who  meet  him  congratulate  him.  One  kisses  his 
eyes,  another  his  neck,  and  the  slaves  his  hands.  He 
goes  to  his  house ;  finds  it  illuminated.  He  ascends 
the  capitol ;  offers  a  sacrifice.  Now,  who  ever  offered 
a  sacrifice  for  having  good  desires  ?  For  conforming 
his  aims  to  Nature  ?  Yet  we  thank  the  gods  for  that 
wherein  we  place  our  good. 

A  person  was  talking  with  me  to-day  about  apply- 
ing for  the  priesthood  in  the  temple  of  Augustus.  I 
said  to  him,  let  the  thing  alone,  friend  ;  you  will  be 
at  great  expense  for  nothing.  "  But  my  name,"  said 
he,  "  will  be  written  in  the  annals."  Will  you  stand 
by,  then,  and  tell  those  who  read  them,  "  I  am  the 
person  whose  name  is  written  there  ?  "  And  even  if 
you  could  tell  every  one  so  now,  what  will  you  do 
when  you  are  dead?  —  "My  name  will  remain."  — 
Write  it  upon  a  stone,  and  it  will  remain  just  as  well. 
And,  pray,  what  remembrance  will  there  be  of  you 
out  of  Nicopolis  ?  — "  But  I  shall  wear  a  crown  of 
gold."  —  If  your  heart  is  quite  set  upon  a  crown, 
make  and  put  on  one  of  roses  ;  for  it  will  make  the 
prettier  appearance. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  61 

CHAPTER    XX. 

IN   WHAT  MANNER   REASON   CONTEMPLATES   ITSELF. 

EVERY  art,  and  every  faculty,  contemplates  cer- 
tain things  as  its  principal  objects.  Whenever, 
therefore,  it  is  of  the  same  nature  with  the  objects  of 
its  contemplation,  it  necessarily  contemplates  itself 
too.  But,  where  it  is  of  a  different  nature,  it  cannot 
contemplate  itself.  The  art  of  shoemaking,  for  in- 
stance, is  exercised  upon  leather ;  but  is  itself  entirely 
distinct  from  the  materials  it  works  upon ;  therefore 
it  does  not  contemplate  itself.  Again,  grammar  is 
exercised  on  articulate  speech.  Is  the  art  of  gram- 
mar itself,  then,  articulate  speech?  By  no  means. 
Therefore  it  cannot  contemplate  itself.  To  what  pur- 
pose, then,  is  reason  appointed  by  nature  ?  To  a 
proper  use  of  the  phenomena  of  existence.  And 
what  is  reason  ?  The  art  of  systematizing  these  phe- 
nomena. Thus,  by  its  nature,  it  becomes  contempla- 
tive of  itself  too. 

Again ;  what  subjects  of  contemplation  belong  to 
prudence  ?  Good  and  evil,  and  that  which  is  indif- 
ferent. What,  then,  is  prudence  itself?  Good. 
What  imprudence  ?     Evil. 

You  see,  then,  that  it  necessarily  contemplates  both 
itself  and  its  contrary.  Therefore,  the  first  and  great- 
est work  of  a  philosopher  is,  to  try  and  distinguish 
the  phenomena  of  existence ;  and  to  admit  none  un- 
tried. Even  in  money,  where  our  interest  seems  to 
be  concerned,  you  see  what  an  art  we.  have  invented, 
and  how  many  ways  an  assay er  uses  to  try  its  value. 
By  the  sight,  the  touch,  the  smell,  and,  lastly,  the 


62  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

hearing.  He  throws  the  piece  down,  and  attends  to 
the  jingle  ;  and  is  not  contented  with  its  jingling  only 
once ;  but,  by  frequent  attention  to  it,  trains  his  ear 
for  sound.  So  when  we  think  it  of  consequence 
whether  we  are  deceived  or  not,  we  use  the  utmost 
attention  to  discern  those  things,  which  may  deceive 
us.  But,  yawning  and  slumbering  over  our  poor  neg- 
lected reason,  we  are  imposed  upon  by  every  appear- 
ance, nor  know  the  mischief  done.  Would  you  know, 
then,  how  very  languidly  you  are  affected  by  good  and 
evil,  and  how  vehemently  by  things  indifferent ;  con- 
sider how  you  feel  with  regard  to  bodily  blindness^ 
and  how  with  regard  to  being  deceived;  and  you 
will  find,  that  you  are  far  from  being  moved,  as  you 
ought,  in  relation  to  good  and  evil. 

"  But  trained  powers,  and  much  labor,  and  learn- 
ing, are  here  needed.' ■ 

What,  then  ?  Do  you  expect  the  greatest  of  arts 
to  be  acquired  by  slight  endeavors  ?  And  yet  the 
principal  doctrine  of  the  philosophers  is  in  itself 
short.  If  you  have  a  mind  to  know  it,  read  Zeno, 
and  you  will  see.  It  is  not  a  long  story  to  say,  "  Our 
end  is  to  serve  the  gods,"  and  "  The  essence  of  good 
consists  in  the  proper  use  of  the  phenomena  of  exist- 
ence." If  you  say,  what  then  is  God?  What  are 
phenomena  ?  What  is  particular,  what  universal  na- 
ture? Here  the  long  story  comes  in.  And  so,  if 
Epicurus  should  come  and  say,  that  good  lies  in  the 
body  ;  here,  too,  it  will  be  a  long  story,  and  it  will  be 
necessary  to  hear,  what  is  the  principal,  and  substan- 
tial, and  essential  part  in  us.  It  is  unlikely,  that  the 
good  of  a  snail  should  be  placed  in  the  shell ;  and,  is 
it  likely,  that  the  good  of  a  man  should  ?  You  your- 
self, Epicurus,  have  in  you  something  superior  to  this. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  63 

What  is  that  in  you,  which  deliberates,  which  exam- 
ines, which  recognizes  the  body  as  the  principal  part  ? 
Why  light  your  lamp,  and  labor  for  us,  and  write  so 
many  books  ?  That  we  may  not  be  ignorant  of  the 
truth  ?  But  what  are  we  ?  What  are  we  to  you  ? 
Thus  the  doctrine  becomes  a  long  story. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

OF   THE    DESIRE    OF   ADMIRATION. 

WHEN  one  maintains  his  proper  attitude  in  life, 
he  does  not  long  after  externals.  What 
would  you  have,  0  man  ? 

"  I  am  contented,  if  my  desires  and  aversions  are 
conformable  to  nature ;  if  I  seek  and  shun  that 
which  I  ought,  and  thus  regulate  my  purposes,  my 
efforts,  and  my  opinions." 

Why,  then,  do  you  walk  as  if  you  had  swallowed  a 
ramrod  ? 

"  Because  I  could  wish  moreover  to  have  all  who 
meet  me,  admire  me,  and  all  who  follow  me,  cry  out, 
what  a  great  philosopher  !  " 

Who  are  those,  by  whom  you  would  be  admired  ? 
Are  they  not  the  very  people,  who,  you  used  to  say, 
were  mad  ?  What,  then,  would  you  be  admired  by 
madmen  ? 


64  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

OF    GENERAL   PRINCIPLES. 

THE  same  general  principles  are  common  to  all 
men,  nor  does  one  such  principle  contradict  an- 
other. For  which  of  us  does  not  admit,  that  good  is 
advantageous  and  eligible,  and  in  all  cases  to  be  pur- 
sued and  followed  ?  Who  does  not  admit  that  jus- 
tice is  fair  and  becoming  ?  Where,  then,  arises  the 
dispute  ?  In  adapting  these  principles  to  particular 
cases.  As,  when  one  cries,  "  Such  a  person  has 
acted  well ;  he  is  a  gallant  man " ;  and  another, 
"  No ;  he  has  acted  like  a  fool."  Hence  arises  dis- 
pute among  men.  This  is  the  dispute  between  Jews, 
and  Syrians,  and  Egyptians,  and  Romans ;  not  whether 
the  right  be  preferable  to  all  things,  and  in  every  in- 
stance to  be  sought ;  but  whether  the  eating  swine's 
flesh  be  consistent  with  right,  or  not.  This,  too,  you 
will  find  to  have  been  the  dispute  between  Achilles 
and  Agamemnon.  For  call  them  forth.  What  say 
you,  Agamemnon.  Ought  not  that  to  be  done, 
which  is  fit  and  right  ?  —  "  Yes,  surely."  —  Achilles, 
what  say  you  ?  Is  it  not  agreeable  to  you,  that  what 
is  right  should  be  done  ?  —  "  Yes ;  I  desire  it  beyond 
everything."  Apply  your  principles  then.  Here  be- 
gins the  dispute.  One  says,  "It  is  not  fit  that  I 
should  restore  Chryseis  to  her  father."  The  other 
says,  "  Yes  ;  but  it  is."  One  or  the  other  of  them, 
certainly,  makes  a  wrong  conception  of  the  principle 
of  fitness.  Again,  the  one  says :  "  If  it  be  fit  that  I 
should  give  up  Chryseis,  it  is  fit,  too,  that  I  should 
take  some  of   your    prizes."     The   other   answers, 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  65 

"What,  that  you  should  take  my  mistress?"  — 
"Ay;  yours." — "What,  mine  only?  Must  I  only, 
then,  lose  my  prize  ?  " 

What  then  is  it  to  be  properly  educated?  To 
learn  how  to  apply  the  principles  of  natural  right  to 
particular  cases,  and,  for  the  rest,  to  distinguish  that 
some  things  are  in  our  power,  while  others  are  not. 
In  our  own  power  are  the  will,  and  all  voluntary  ac- 
tions ;  out  of  our  power,  the  body  and  its  parts,  prop- 
erty, parents,  brothers,  children,  country;  and,  in 
short,  all  our  fellow-beings.  Where,  then,  shall  we 
place  good  ?  In  what  shall  we  define  it  to  consist  ? 
In  things  within  our  own  power.  "  But  are  not 
health,  and  strength,  and  life,  good  ?  And  are  not 
children,  parents,  country  ?    You  talk  unreasonably. " 

Let  us,  then,  try  another  point  of  view.  Can  he 
who  suffers  evil,  and  is  disappointed  of  good,  be 
happy?  He  cannot.  And  can  he  preserve  a  right 
behavior  with  regard  to  society  ?  How  is  it  possible 
that  he  should  ?  For  I  am  naturally  led  to  seek  my 
own  highest  good.  If,  therefore,  it  is  my  highest 
good  to  have  an  estate,  it  is  for  my  good  likewise  to 
take  it  away  from  my  neighbor.  If  it  is  my  highest 
good  to  have  a  suit  of  clothes,  it  is  for  my  good  like- 
wise to  steal  it  wherever  I  find  it.  Hence  wars,  sedi- 
tions, tyranny,  unjust  invasions.  How  shall  I,  if  this 
be  the  case,  be  able,  any  longer,  to  do  my  duty  to- 
wards Zeus  ?  If  I  suffer  evil,  and  am  disappointed, 
he  takes  no  care  of  me.  And,  what  is  he  to  me,  if  he 
cannot  help  me ;  or,  again,  what  is  he  to  me,  if  he 
chooses  I  should  be  in  the  condition  that  I  am? 
Then  I  begin  to  hate  him.  What,  then,  do  we  build 
temples,  do  we  raise  statues,  to  Zeus,  as  to  evil  de- 
mons, as  to  the  goddess  Fever  ?     How  then  is  he  the 

5 


66  THE   DISC0UBSE9   OF   EPICTETUS. 

preserver ;  and  how  the  dispenser  of  rain  and  plenty  ? 
If  we  place  the  essence  of  good  on  any  such  ground, 
all  this  will  follow.     What,  then,  shall  we  do  ? 

This  is  the  inquiry  which  interests  him  who  philos- 
ophizes in  earnest,  and  to  some  result.  Do  I  not  now 
see  what  is  good,  and  what  is  evil,  or  am  I  mad  ? 
Suppose  I  place  good  only  in  things  dependent  on  my 
own  will  ?  Why,  every  one  will  laugh  at  me.  Some 
gray-headed  old  fellow  will  come,  with  his  fingers  cov- 
ered with  gold  rings,  and  will  shake  his  head,  and  say ; 
"  Hark  ye,  child,  it  is  fit  you  should  learn  philoso- 
phy ;  but  it  is  fit,  too,  you  should  have  common-sense. 
All  this  is  nonsense.  You  learn  syllogisms  from 
philosophers ;  but  how  you  are  to  act,  you  know  bet- 
ter than  they.,,  Then,  what  displeases  you  if  I  do 
know  ?  What  can  I  say  to  this  unfortunate  ?  If  I 
make  no  answer,  he  will  burst;  so  I  must  answer 
thus :  "  Bear  with  me,  as  with  lovers.  Granted ;  I 
am  not  myself.     I  have  lost  my  senses." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

AGAINST    EPICURUS. 

EVEN  Epicurus  is  sensible  that  we  are  by  nature 
sociable  beings ;  but  having  once  placed  our  good 
in  the  mere  outward  shell,  he  can  say  nothing  after- 
wards inconsistent  with  that.  For  again,  he  strenu- 
ously maintains,  that  we  ought  not  to  admire,  or  ac- 
cept, anything  separated  from  the  nature  of  good. 
And  he  is  in  the  right  to  maintain  it.  But  how, 
then,  arise  any  affectionate  anxieties,  unless  there 
be  such  a  thing  as  natural  affection  towards  our 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  67 

offspring  ?  Then  why  do  you,  Epicurus,  dissuade  a 
wise  man  from  bringing  up  children  ?  "Why  are  you 
afraid,  that,  upon  their  account,  he  may  fall  into 
anxieties  ?  Does  he  fall  into  any  for  a  mouse,  that 
feeds  within  his  house  ?  What  is  it  to  him,  if  a  little 
mouse  bewails  itself  there?  But  Epicurus  knew, 
that,  if  once  a  child  is  born,  it  is  no  longer  in  our 
power  not  to  love  and  be  solicitous  for  it.  On  the 
same  grounds  he  says,  that  a  wise  man  will  not  en- 
gage himself  in  public  business,  knowing  very  well 
what  must  follow.  If  men  are  only  so  many  flies, 
why  should  he  not  engage  in  it  ? 

And  does  he,  who  knows  all  this,  dare  to  forbid  us 
to  bring  up  children  ?  Not  even  a  sheep,  or  a  wolf, 
deserts  its  offspring;  and  shall  man?  What  would 
you  have?  That  we  should  be  as  silly  .as  sheep? 
Yet  even  these  do  not  desert  their  offspring.  Or  as 
savage  as  wolves?  Neither  do  these  desert  them. 
Pray,  who  would  mind  you,  if  he  saw  his  child  fallen 
upon  the  ground  and  crying  ?  For  my  part,  I  am  of 
opinion,  that  your  father  and  mother,  even  if  they 
could  have  foreseen  that  you  would  have  been  the 
author  of  such  doctrines,  would  not  have  thrown  you 
away. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

HOW   WE    OUGHT   TO   STRUGGLE    WITH   DIFFICULTIES. 

DIFFICULTIES  are  things  that  show  what  men 
are.  For  the  future,  in  case  of  any  difficulty, 
remember,  that  God,  like  a  gymnastic  trainer,  has 
pitted  you  against  a  rough  antagonist.  For  what 
end  ?     That  you  may  be  an  Olympic  conqueror ;  and 


68  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

this  cannot  be  without  toil.  No  man,  in  my  opinion, 
has  a  more  profitable  difficulty  on  his  hands  than  you 
have ;  provided  you  will  but  use  it,  as  an  athletic 
champion  uses  his  antagonist. 

Suppose  we  were  to  send  you  as  a  scout  to  Romo. 
But  no  one  ever  sends  a  timorous  scout,  who,  when 
he  only  hears  a  noise,  or  sees  a  shadow,  runs  back 
frightened,  and  says,  "  The  enemy  is  at  hand."  So 
now,  if  you  should  come  and  tell  us :  "  Things  are  hi 
a  fearful  way  at  Rome  ;  death  is  terrible,  banishment 
terrible,  calumny  terrible,  poverty  terrible  ;  run,  good 
people,  the  enemy  is  at  hand  ";  —  we  will  answer :  Get 
you  gone,  and  prophesy  for  yourself;  our  only  fault 
is,  that  we  have  sent  such  a  scout.  Diogenes  was 
sent  a  scout  before  you,  but  he  told  us  other  tidings. 
He  says  that  death  is  no  evil,  for  it  is  nothing  base ; 
that  calumny  is  only  the  noise  of  madmen.  And 
what  account  did  this  spy  give  us  of  pain,  of  pleasure, 
of  poverty  ?  He  says,  that  to  be  naked  is  better  than 
a  purple  robe ;  to  sleep  upon  the  bare  ground,  the  soft- 
est bed  ;  and  gives  a  proof  of  all  he  says  by  his  own 
courage,  tranquillity,  and  freedom ;  and,  moreover, 
by  a  healthy  and  robust  body.  "  There  is  no  enemy 
near,"  he  says.  "  All  is  profound  peace."  How 
so,  Diogenes  ?  "  Look  upon  me,"  he  says.  "  Am  1 
hurt?  Am  I  wounded?  Have  I  run  away  from 
any  one  ?  "  This  is  a  scout  worth  having.  But  you 
come,  and  tell  us  one  thing  after  another.  Go  back 
and  look  more  carefully,  and  without  fear. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  then  ?  " 

What  do  you  do  when  you  come  out  of  a  ship  ? 
Do  you  take  away  with  you  the  rudder,  or  the  oars  ? 
What  do  you  take,  then  ?  Your  own,  your  bundlo 
and  your  flask.     So,  in  the  present  case,  if  you  will 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  69 

but  remember  what  is  your  own,  you  will  not  covet 
what  belongs  to  others.  If  some  tyrant  bids  you  put 
off  your  consular  robe  ?  "  "Well,  I  am  in  my  equestri- 
an robe."  Put  off  that  too.  "  I  have  only  my  coat." 
Put  off  that  too.  "  Well,  I  am  naked."  I  am  not 
yet  satisfied.  "  Then  e'en  take  my  whole  body.  If  I 
can  throw  off  a  paltry  body,  am  I  any  longer  afraid 
of  a  tyrant?" 

"  But  such  a  one  will  not  leave  me  his  heir." 
What,  then,  have  I  forgotten,  that  such  things  are 
never  really  mine  ?  How  then  do  we  call  them 
ours  ?  As  with  a  bed,  in  an  inn.  If  the  landlord, 
when  he  dies,  leaves  yon  the  bed,  well  and  good  ; 
but  if  to  another,  it  will  be  his,  and  you  will  seek 
one  elsewhere ;  and,  consequently,  if  you  do  not  find 
one,  you  will  sleep  upon  the  ground  ;  only  sleep  fear- 
lessly and  profoundly,  and  remember,  that  tragedies 
find  their  theme  among  the  rich,  and  kings,  and 
tyrants.  No  poor  man  fills  any  other  place  in  one, 
than  as  part  of  the  chorus ;  whereas  kings  begin, 
indeed,  witli  prosperity :  "  Crown  the  palace  ";  —  but 
continue  about  the  third  and  fourth  act :  "  Alas, 
Citheron !  Why  didst  thou  receive  me  !  "  *  Where 
are  thy  crowns,  wretch  ;  where  is  thy  diadem  ?  Can- 
not thy  guards  help  thee  ? 

Whenever  you  are  brought  into  any  such  society, 
think  then  that  you  meet  a  tragic  actor,  or  rather, 
not  an  actor,  but  CEdipus  himself.  "  But  such  a  one 
is  happy.  He  walks  with  a  numerous  train."  Well ; 
I  too  walk  with  a  numerous  train. 

But  remember  the  principal  thing ;  that  the  door 
is  open.  Do  not  be  more  fearful  than  children  ;  but 
as  they,  when  the  play  does  not  please  them,  say,  "  I 

*  Sophocles,  GEdipus  Tyrannus,  V.  1391.  — H. 


70  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

will  play  no  longer  "  j  so  do  you,  in  the  same  case, 
say,  "  I  will  play  no  longer  ";  and  go ;  but,  if  you 
stay,  do  not  complain. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

ON   THE    SAME    SUBJECT. 

IF  these  things  are  true  ;  and  if  we  are  not  stupid, 
or  insincere,  when  we  say,  that  the  good  or  ill  of 
man  lies  within  his  own  will,  and  that  all  beside  is 
nothing  to  us  ;  why  are  we  still  troubled  ?  "Why  do 
we  still  fear  ?  What  truly  concerns  us  is  in  no  one's 
power :  what  is  in  the  power  of  others  concerns  not 
us.     What  embarrassment  have  we  left  ? 

"  But  you  must  direct  me." 

Why  should  I  direct  you  ?  Has  not  Zeus  directed 
you  ?  Has  he  not  given  you  what  is  your  own,  inca- 
pable of  restraint  or  hindrance ;  and  what  is  not  your 
own,  liable  to  both?  What  directions,  then,  what 
orders, have  you  brought  from  him  ?  "By  all  means 
guard  what  is  your  own :  what  belongs  to  others  do 
not  covet.  Honesty  is  your  own :  a  sense  of  virtu- 
ous shame  is  your  own.  Who,  then,  can  deprive  you 
of  these  ?  Who  can  restrain  you  from  making  use 
of  them,  but  yourself?  And  how  do  you  do  it  ? 
When  you  make  that  your  concern  which  is  not  truly 
your  own,  you  lose  that  which  is."  Having  such 
precepts  and  directions  from  Zeus,  what  sort  do  you 
still  want  from  me  ?  Am  I  better  than  He,  or  more 
worthy  of  credit  ?  If  you  observe  these  precepts, 
what  others  do  you  need  ?  Are  not  these  His  ? 
Apply  the  recognized  principles;  apply  the  demon- 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  71 

strations  of  philosophers ;  apply  what  you  have  often 
heard,  and  what  you  have  said  yourself;  what  you 
have  read,  and  what  you  have  carefully  studied. 

How  long  is  it  right  to  devote  one's  self  to  these 
things  and  not  break  up  the  game  ? 

As  long  as  it  goes  on  well.  A  king  is  chosen  at 
the  Saturnalian  Festival,  supposing  that  it  was  agreed 
to  play  at  that  game  :  he  orders  :  "  Do  you  drink  ;  you 
mix  the  wine ;  you  sing ;  you  go ;  you  come."  I 
obey ;  that  the  game  may  not  be  broken  up  by  my 
fault. 

[Then  he  orders]  "  I  bid  you  think  yourself  to  be 
unhappy."  I  do  not  think  so  ;  and  who  shall  compel 
me  to  think  so  ? 

Again ;  suppose  we  agreed  to  play  Agamemnon 
and  Achilles.  He  who  is  appointed  for  Agamemnon 
says  to  me,  "Go  to  Achilles,  and  force  away  Bri- 
seis."  I  go.  "  Come."  I  come.  We  should  deal 
with  life  as  with  these  imaginary  orders. 

"  Suppose  it  to  be  night."  Well ;  suppose  it.  "  Is 
it  day  then  ?  "  No  :  for  I  admitted  the  hypothesis, 
that  it  was  night.  "  Suppose  that  you  think  it  to  be 
night."  Well ;  suppose  it.  "  But  you  must  really 
think  that  it  is  night."  That  by  no  means  follows 
from  the  hypothesis.  Thus  it  is  in  the  case  illus- 
trated. Suppose  you  have  ill  luck.  Suppose  it. 
"  Are  you  then  unlucky  ?  "  Yes.  "  Are  you  thor- 
oughly unfortunate  ?  "  Yes.  "  Well ;  but  you  must 
really  regard  yourself  as  miserable."  But  this  is  no 
part  of  the  assumption,  and  there  is  a  power  who  for- 
bids me  to  admit  that. 

How  far  then  are  we  to  carry  snch  analogies  ?  As 
far  as  is  useful ;  that  is,  till  we  go  farther  than  is  rea- 
sonable and  fit. 


72  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

Moreover,  some  are  peevish  and  fastidious,  and 
say,  I  cannot  dine  with  such  a  fellow,  to  be  obliged 
to  hear  him  all  day  recounting  how  he  fought  in 
Mysia.  "  I  told  you,  my  friend,  how  I  gained  the 
eminence."  There  I  begin  to  suffer  another  siege. 
But  another  says,  "  I  had  rather  get  a  dinner,  and 
hear  him  prate  as  much  as  he  pleases. " 

Do  you  decide  between  these  opinions  ;  but  do  not 
let  it  be  with  depression  and  anxiety,  and  the  as- 
sumption that  you  are  miserable  ;  for  no  one  compels 
you  to  that.  Is  there  smoke  in  my  house  ?  If  it  be 
moderate,  I  will  stay ;  if  very  great,  I  will  go  out. 
For  you  must  always  remember,  and  hold  to  this, 
that  the  door  is  open.  "  You  are  forbidden  to  live 
at  Nicopolis."  I  will  not  live  there.  "  Nor  at  Ath- 
ens." Well,  nor  at  Athens.  "  Nor  at  Rome."  Nor 
at  Rome.  "  But  you  shall  live  at  Gyaros."  *  I  will 
live  there.  But  suppose  that  living  at  Gyaros  seems 
to  me  like  living  in  a  great  smoke.  I  can  then  retire 
where  no  one  can  forbid  me  to  live,  for  it  is  an  abode 
open  to  all ;  and  put  off  my  last  garment,  this  poor 
body  of  mine ;  beyond  this,  no  one  has  any  power 
over  me. 

Thus  Demetrius  said  to  Nero  :  "  You  sentence  me 
to  death  ;  and  Nature  you."  If  I  prize  my  body  first, 
I  have  surrendered  myself  as  a  slave ;  if  my  estate, 
the  same ;  for  I  at  once  betray  where  I  am  vulnera- 
ble. Just  as  when  a  reptile  pulls  in  his  head,  I  bid 
you  strike  that  part  of  him  which  he  guards  ;  and 
be  you  assured,  that  wherever  you  show  a  desire  to 
guard  yourself,  there  your  master  will  attack  you. 

*  An  island  in  the  JEgean  Sea,  to  which  the  Romans  used  to  ban- 
ish criminals.  —  0. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  73 

Remember  but  this,  and  whom  will  you  any  longer 
flatter  or  fear  ? 

"  But  I  want  to  sit  where  the  senators  do." 

Do  not  you  see,  that  by  this  you  incommode  and 
torment  yourself? 

"  Why,  how  else  shall  I  see  the  show  in  the  Amphi- 
theatre advantageously  ?  " 

Do  not  insist  on  seeing  it,  0  man !  and  you  will 
not  be  incommoded.  Why  do  you  vex  yourself? 
Or  wait  a  little  while ;  and  when  the  show  is  over,  go 
sit  in  the  senators'  places,  and  sun  yourself.  For  re- 
member, that  this  holds  universally ;  we  incommode 
and  torment  ourselves  ;  that  is,  our  own  preconceived 
notions  do  it  for  us.  What  is  it  to  be  reviled,  for 
instance  ?  Stand  by  a  stone,  and  revile  it ;  and  what 
will  you  get  by  it  ?  If  you,  therefore,  would  listen 
only  as  a  stone,  what  would  your  re  viler  gain  ?  But, 
if  the  reviler  has  the  weakness  of  the  reviled  for  a 
vantage-ground,  then  he  carries  his  point. 

"  Strip  him,"  [bids  the  tyrant].  What  mean  you 
by  Mm  ?  Take  my  clothes,  strip  them,  at  your  pleas- 
ure. "I  meant  only  to  insult  you."  Much  good 
may  it  do  you. 

These  things  were  the  study  of  Socrates ;  and,  by 
these  means,  he  always  preserved  the  same  counte- 
nance. Yet  we  had  rather  exercise  and  study  any- 
thing, than  how  to  become  unrestrained  and  free. 
"  But  the  philosophers  talk  paradoxes."  And  are 
there  not  paradoxes  in  other  arts?  What  is  more 
paradoxical,  than  to  prick  any  one's  eye,  that  he  may 
see  ?  Should  one  tell  this  to  one  ignorant  of  surgery, 
would  not  he  laugh  at  him  ?  What  wonder  then,  if, 
in  philosophy  also,  many  truths  appear  paradoxes  to 
the  ignorant  ? 


74  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

WHAT   THE   RULE    OP   LIFE   IS. 

AS  some  one  was  reading  hypothetical  proposi- 
tions, Epictetus  remarked  that  it  was  a  rule  in 
these  to  admit  whatever  was  in  accordance  with  the 
hypothesis  ;  but  much  more  a  rule  in  life,  to  do  what 
was  in  accordance  with  nature.  For,  if  we  desire  in 
every  matter  and  on  every  occasion  to  conform  to  na- 
ture ;  we  must,  on  every  occasion,  evidently  make  it 
our  aim,  neither  to  omit  anything  thus  conformable, 
nor  to  admit  anything  inconsistent.  Philosophers, 
therefore,  first  exercise  us  in  theory,  which  is  the 
more  easy  task,  and  then  lead  us  to  the  more  diffi- 
cult; for  in  theory,  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  our 
following  what  we  are  taught,  but  in  life  there  are 
many  things  to  draw  us  aside.  It  is  ridiculous  then 
to  say,  we  must  begin  with  these  applications,  for  it  is 
not  easy  to  begin  with  the  most  difficult;  and  this 
excuse  children  should  make  to  those  parents  who 
dislike  that  they  should  study  philosophy.  "  Am  I 
to  blame  then,  sir,  and  ignorant  of  my  duty,  and  of 
what  is  incumbent  on  me  ?  If  this  is  neither  to  be 
learned,  nor  taught,  why  do  you  find  fault  with  me  ? 
If  it  is  to  be  taught,  pray  teach  me  yourself ;  or,  if 
you  cannot,  let  me  learn  it  from  those  who  profess 
to  understand  it.  For  what  think  you ;  that  I  vol- 
untarily fall  into  evil,  and  miss  good  ?  Heaven  for- 
bid !  What,  then,  is  the  cause  of  my  faults  ?  Ig- 
norance. Are  you  not  willing,  then,  that  I  should 
get  rid  of  my  ignorance  ?  Who  was  ever  taught  the 
art  of  music,  or  navigation,  by  anger  ?    Do  you  ex- 


THE  DISCOUESES  OP  EPICTETUS.  75 

pect,  then,  that  your  anger  should  teach  me  the  art 
of  living?  " 

This,  however,  can  properly  be  said  only  by  one 
who  is  really  in  earnest.  But  he  who  reads  these 
things,  and  applies  to  the  philosophers,  merely  for 
the  sake  of  showing,  at  some  entertainment,  that  he 
understands  hypothetical  reasonings ;  what  aim  has 
he  but  to  be  admired  by  some  senator,  who  happens 
to  sit  near  him  ?  *  Great  possessions  may  be  won  by 
such  aims  as  that,  but  what  we  hold  as  wealth  passes 
there  for  folly.  It  is  hard,  therefore,  to  overcome  by 
appearances,  where  vain  things  thus  pass  for  great. 

I  once  saw  a  person  weeping  and  embracing  the 
knees  of  Epaphroditus ;  and  deploring  his  hard  for- 
tune, that  he  had  not  more  than  150,000  drachmae 
left.  What  said  Epaphroditus  then  ?  Did  he  laugh 
at  him,  as  we  should  do  ?  No ;  but  cried  out  with 
astonishment :  "  Poor  man  !  How  could  you  be  silent 
under  it  ?     How  could  you  bear  it  ?  " 

The  first  step,  therefore,  towards  becoming  a  phi- 
losopher, is  to  be  sensible  in  what  state  the  ruling 
faculty  of  the  mind  is ;  for  on  knowing  it  to  be  weak, 
no  person  will  immediately  employ  it  in  great  at- 
tempts. But,  for  want  of  this,  some,  who  can  scarce 
digest  a  crumb,  will  yet  buy  and  swallow  whole  trea- 
tises ;  and  so  they  throw  them  up  again,  or  cannot  di- 
gest them ;  and  then  come  colics,  fluxes,  and  fevers. 
Such  persons  ought  to  consider  what  they  can  bear. 
Indeed,  it  is  easy  to  convince  an  ignorant  person,  so 
far  as  concerns  theory  ;  but  in  matters  relating  to 

*  This  passage  is  omitted  as  inexplicable  by  Mrs.  Carter.  Schweig- 
haeuser  says,  "Tentare  interpretationem  possum;  praestare  non 
possum."  A  passage  just  below  I  also  have  omitted,  as  the  text  is 
admitted  to  be  in  a  hopeless  state.  —  H. 


76  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

life,  no  one  offers  himself  to  conviction,  and  we  hate 
those  who  have  convinced  us.  Socrates  used  to  say, 
that  we  ought  not  to  live  a  life  unexamined.* 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

OP  THE  VARIED  APPEARANCES  OP  THINGS  TO  THE  MIND, 
AND  WHAT  MEANS  ARE  AT  HAND  BY  WHICH  TO  REGU- 
LATE  THEM. 

APPEARANCES  to  the  mind  are  of  four  kinds. 
Things  either  are  what  they  appear  to  be; 
or  they  neither  are,  nor  appear  to  be ;  or  they  are, 
and  do  not  appear  to  be ;  or  they  are  not,  and  yet 
appear  to  be.  Rightly  to  aim,  in  all  these  cases,  is 
the  wise  man's  task.  Whatever  unduly  constrains 
us,  to  that  a  remedy  must  be  applied.  If  the  sophis- 
tries of  Pyrrhonism,  or  the  Academy,  constrain  us, 
the  remedy  must  be  applied  there;  if  specious  ap- 
pearances, by  which  things  seem  to  be  good  which 
are  not  so,  let  us  seek  for  a  remedy  there.  If  it  be 
custom  which  constrains  us,  we  must  endeavor  to 
find  a  remedy  against  that. 

"  What  remedy  is  to  be  found  against  custom  ?  " 
Establish  a  contrary  custom.  You  hear  the  vul- 
gar say,  "  Such  a  one,  poor  soul!  is  dead."  Well, 
his  father  died :  his  mother  died.  "  Ay,  but  he  was 
cut  off  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  and  in  a  foreign 
land."  Observe  these  contrary  ways  of  speaking; 
and  abandon  such  expressions.  Oppose  to  one  cus- 
tom, a  contrary  custom  ;  to  sophistry,  the  art  of  rea- 
soning, and  the  frequent  use  and  exercise  of  it. 

*  Plato,  Apologia,  I.  28.  — H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  77 

Against  specious  appearances  we  must  set  clear  con- 
victions, bright  and  ready  for  use.  When  death  ap- 
pears as  an  evil,  we  ought  immediately  to  remember, 
that  evils  are  things  to  be  avoided,  but  death  is  inev- 
itable. For  what  can  I  do,  or  where  can  I  fly  from 
it  ?  Let  me  suppose  myself  to  be  Sarpedon,  the  son 
of  Jove,  that  I  may  speak  as  nobly.  "  I  go  either  to 
excel,  or  to  give  another  the  occasion  to  excel."*  If 
I  can  achieve  nothing  myself,  I  will  not  grudge  an- 
other his  achievement. 

But  suppose  this  to  be  a  strain  too  high  for  us ;  do 
not  these  following  thoughts  befit  us  ?  Whither  shall 
I  fly  from  death  ?  Show  me  the  place,  show  me  the 
people,  to  whom  I  may  have  recourse,  whom  death 
does  not  overtake.  Show  me  the  charm  to  avoid  it. 
If  there  be  none,  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  I 
cannot  escape  death ;  but  cannot  I  escape  the  dread 
of  it  ?  Must  I  die  trembling,  and  lamenting  ?  For 
the  very  origin  of  the  disease  lies  in  wishing  for  some- 
thing that  is  not  obtained.  Under  the  influence  of 
this,  if  I  can  make  outward  things  conform  to  my 
own  inclination,  I  do  it ;  if  not,  I  feel  inclined  to  tear 
out  the  eyes  of  whoever  hinders  me.  For  it  is  the 
nature  of  man  not  to  endure  the  being  deprived  of 
good  ;  not  to  endure  the  falling  into  evil.  And  so, 
at  last,  when  I  can  neither  control  events,  nor  tear 
out  the  eyes  of  him  who  hinders  me,  I  sit  down,  and 
groan,  and  revile  him  whom  I  can ;  Zeus,  and  the 
rest  of  the  gods.  For  what  are  they  to  me,  if  they 
take  no  care  of  me  ? 

"  Oh !  but  then  you  will  be  impious." 

What  then  ?  Can  I  be  in  a  worse  condition  than  I 
am  now  ?     In  general,  remember  this,  that  unless  we 

*  Imitated  from  Iliad,  xii.  328.  —  H. 


78  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

place  our  religion  and  our  treasure  in  the  same  thing, 
religion  will  always  be  sacrificed. 

Have  these  things  no  weight  ?  Let  a  Pyrrhonist, 
or  an  Academic,  come  and  oppose  them.  For  my 
part,  I  have  neither  leisure  nor  ability  to  stand  up  as 
an  advocate  for  common  sense.  Even  if  the  business 
were  concerning  an  estate,  I  should  call  in  another 
advocate.  To  what  advocate,  then,  shall  I  now  ap- 
peal ?  I  will  leave  it  to  any  one  who  may  be  upon 
the  spot.  Thus  I  may  not  be  able  to  explain  how  sen- 
sation takes  place,  whether  it  be  diffused  universally, 
or  reside  in  a  particular  part ;  for  I  find  perplexities 
in  either  case ;  but  that  you  and  I  are  not  the  same 
person,  I  very  exactly  know. 

"  How  so  ? " 

Why,  I  never,  when  I  have  a  mind  to  swallow  any- 
thing, carry  it  to  your  mouth  ;  but  my  own.  I  never, 
when  I  wanted  bread,  seized  a  broom  instead,  but 
went  directly  to  the  bread  as  I  needed  it.  You  who 
deny  all  evidence  of  the  senses,  do  you  act  otherwise  ? 
Which  of  you,  when  he  wished  to  go  into  a  bath,  ever 
went  into  a  mill  ? 

"  Why  then,  must  not  we,  to  the  utmost,  defend 
these  points  ?  stand  by  common  sense ;  be  fortified 
against  everything  that  opposes  it  ?  "  * 

Who  denies  that?  But  it  must  be  done  by  him 
who  has  ability  and  leisure  to  spare  ;  but  he,  who  is 

*  This  seems  to  be  said  by  one  of  the  hearers,  who  wanted  to  have 
the  absurdities  of  the  sceptics  confuted  and  guarded  against  by  regu- 
lar argument.  Epictctus  allows  this  to  be  right,  for  such  as  have 
abilities  and  leisure ;  but  recommends  in  others  the  more  necessary 
task  of  curing  their  own  moral  disorders,  and  insinuates  that  the 
mere  common  occurrences  of  life  are  sufficient  to  overthrow  the  no- 
tions of  the  Pyrrhonists.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  79 

fall  of  trembling  and  perturbation,  and  inward  disor- 
ders of  heart,  must  first  employ  his  time  about  some- 
thing else. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THAT  WE  OUGHT  NOT  TO  BE  ANGRY  WITH  MANKIND. 
WHAT  THINGS  ARE  LITTLE,  WHAT  GREAT,  AMONG 
MEN. 

WHAT  is  the  cause  of  assent  to  anything  ?  Its 
appearing  to  be  true.  It  is  not  possible, 
therefore,  to  assent  to  what  appears  to  be  not  true. 
Why  ?  Because  it  is  the  very  nature  of  the  under- 
standing to  agree  to  truth,  to  be  dissatisfied  with 
falsehood,  and  to  suspend  its  belief,  in  doubtful  cases. 

What  is  the  proof  of  this  ? 

Persuade  yourself,  if  you  can,  that  it  is  now  night. 
Impossible.  Dissuade  yourself  from  the  belief  that  it 
is  day.  Impossible.  Persuade  yourself  that  the 
number  of  the  stars  is  even  or  odd.     Impossible. 

When  any  one,  then,  assents  to  what  is  false,  be 
assured  that  he  doth  not  wilfully  assent  to  it,  as  false ; 
for,  as  Plato  affirms,  the  soul  is  unwillingly  deprived 
of  truth  ;  *  but  what  is  false  appears  to  him  to  be  true. 
Well,  then ;  have  we,  in  actions,  anything  correspon- 
dent to  this  distinction  between  true  and  false  ? 

Right  and  wrong ;  advantageous  and  disadvanta- 
geous ;  desirable  and  undesirable  ;  and  the  like. 

A  person  then,  cannot  think  a  thing  truly  advanta- 
geous to  him,  and  not  choose  it  ? 

*  This  is  not  a  literal  quotation  from  Plato,  but  similar  passages 
are  to  be  found  in  his  Laws,  ix.  5 ;  Sophist,  §  29 ;  Protagoras,  §  87, 
etc.— H. 


80  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

He  cannot.     But  how  says  Medea  ? 

"  I  know  what  evils  wait  upon  my  purpose ; 
But  wrath  is  stronger  than  this  will  of  mine."  * 

Was  it  that  she  thought  the  very  indulgence  of  her 
rage,  and  the  punishing  her  husband,  more  advanta- 
geous than  the  preservation  of  her  children  ?  Yes ; 
but  she  is  deceived.  Show  clearly  to  her  that  she  is 
deceived,  and  she  will  forbear;  but,  till  you  have 
shown  it,  what  has  she  to  follow,  but  what  appears  to 
herself  ?     Nothing. 

Why,  then,  are  you  angry  with  her,  that  the  un- 
happy woman  is  deceived  in  the  most  important 
points,  and  instead  of  a  human  creature,  becomes  a 
viper  ?  Why  do  not  you  rather,  as  we  pity  the  blind 
and  lame,  so  likewise  pity  those  who  are  blinded  and 
lamed  in  their  superior  faculties  ?  Whoever,  there- 
fore, duly  remembers,  that  the  appearance  of  things 
to  the  mind  is  the  standard  of  every  action  to  man  ; 
that  this  is  either  right  or  wrong,  and,  if  right,  he  is 
without  fault,  if  wrong,  he  himself  suffers  punish- 
ment; for  that  one  man  cannot  be  the  person  de- 
ceived, and  another  the  only  sufferer ;  —  such  a  per- 
son will  not  be  outrageous  and  angry  at  any  one; 
will  not  revile,  or  reproach,  or  hate,  or  quarrel  with 
any  one. 

"  So  then,  have  all  the  great  and  dreadful  deeds, 
that  have  been  done  in  the  world,  no  other  origin 
than  [true  or  false]  appearances  ?  " 

Absolutely,  no  other.  The  Iliad  consists  of  noth- 
ing but  such  appearances  and  their  results.  It 
seemed  to  Paris  that  he  should  carry  off  the  wife  of 
Menelaus.     It  seemed  to  Helen,  that  she  should  fol- 

*  Euripides,  Medea,  1087 — H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  81 

low  him.  If,  then,  it  had  seemed  to  Menelaus,  that 
it  was  an  advantage  to  be  robbed  of  such  a  wife, 
what  could  have  happened  ?  Not  only  the  Iliad  had 
been  lost,  but  the  Odyssey  too. 

"  Do  such  great  events,  then,  depend  on  so  small  a 
cause  ? " 

What  events,  then,  call  you  great  ? 

"  Wars  and  seditions ;  the  destruction  of  numbers 
of  men,  and  the  overthrow  of  cities." 

And  what  in  all  this  is  great  ?  Nothing.  What  is 
great  in  the  death  of  numbers  of  oxen,  numbers  of 
sheep,  or  in  the  burning  or  pulling  down  numbers  of 
nests  of  storks  or  swallows  ? 

"  Are  these  things  then  similar  ?  " 

They  are.  The  bodies  of  men  are  destroyed,  and 
the  bodies  of  sheep  and  oxen.  The  houses  of  men 
are  burnt,  and  the  nests  of  storks.  What  is  there  so 
great  or  fearful  in  all  this?  Pray,  show  me  what 
difference  there  is  between  the  house  of  a  man  and 
the  nest  of  a  stork,  considered  as  a  habitation,  except 
that  houses  are  built  with  beams,  and  tiles,  and 
bricks ;  and  nests  with  sticks  and  clay  ? 

"What,  then,  are  a  stork  and  a  man  similar? 
What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Similar  in  body. 

"  Is  there  no  difference,  then,  between  a  man  and 
a  stork  ? " 

Yes,  surely ;  but  not  in  these  things. 

"  In  what  then  ?  " 

Inquire  ;  and  you  will  find,  that  the  difference  lies 
in  something  else.  See  whether  it  be  not  in  ration- 
ality of  action,  in  social  instincts,  fidelity,  honor, 
providence,  judgment. 

"  Where  then  is  the  real  good  or  evil  of  man  ? " 


82  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

Just  where  this  difference  lies.  If  this  distinguish- 
ing trait  is  preserved,  and  remains  well  fortified,  and 
neither  honor,  fidelity,  nor  judgment  is  destroyed, 
then  he  himself  is  likewise  saved ;  but  when  any  one 
of  these  is  lost  or  demolished,  he  himself  is  lost  also. 
In  this  do  all  great  events  consist.  Paris,  they  say, 
was  undone,  because  the  Greeks  invaded  Troy,  and 
laid  it  waste,  and  his  family  were  slain  in  battle.  By 
no  means  ;  for  no  one  is  undone  by  an  action  not  his 
own.  All  that  was  only  like  laying  waste  the  nests 
of  storks.  But  his  true  undoing  was,  when  he  lost 
modesty,  faith,  honor,  virtue.  When  was  Achilles 
undone  ?  When  Patroclus  died  ?  By  no  means. 
But  when  he  gave  himself  up  to  rage  ;  when  he  wept 
over  a  girl ;  when  he  forgot,  that  he  came  there,  not 
to  win  mistresses,  but  to  fight.  This  is  human  undo- 
ing ;  this  is  the  siege ;  this  the  overthrow  ;  when  right 
principles  are  ruined  and  destroyed. 

"  But  when  wives  and  children  are  led  away  cap- 
tives, and  the  men  themselves  killed,  are  not  these 
evils  ? " 

Whence  do  you  conclude  them  such?  Pray  in- 
form me,  in  my  turn. 

"  Nay  ;  but  whence  do  you  affirm  that  they  are  not 
evils  ? " 

Recur  to  the  rules.  Apply  your  principles.  One 
cannot  sufficiently  wonder  at  what  happens  among 
men.  When  we  would  judge  of  light  and  heavy, 
we  do  not  judge  by  guess ;  nor  when  we  judge  of 
straight  and  crooked ;  and,  in  general,  when  it  con- 
cerns us  to  know  the  truth  on  any  special  point,  no 
one  of  us  will  do  anything  by  guess.  But  where  the 
first  and  principal  source  of  right  or  wrong  action 
is  concerned,  of  being  prosperous  or  unprosperous, 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  83 

happy  or  unhappy ;  there  only  do  we  act  rashly,  and 
by  guess.  Nowhere  anything  like  a  balance ;  nowhere 
anything  like  a  rule  ;  but  something  seems  thus  or 
so  to  me,  and  I  at  once  act  accordingly.  For  am  I 
better  than  Agamemnon  or  Achilles ;  that  they,  by 
following  what  seemed  best  to  them,  should  do  and 
suffer  so  many  things,  and  yet  that  seeming  should 
not  suffice  me  ?  And  what  tragedy  hath  any  other 
origin  ?  The  Atreus  of  Euripides,  what  is  it  ?  Seem- 
ing. The  (Edipus  of  Sophocles?  Seeming.  The 
Phoenix?  The  Hippolytus  ?  All  seeming.  Who 
then,  think  you,  can  escape  this  influence  ?  What 
are  they  called  who  follow  every  seeming  ?  Madmen. 
Yet  do  we,  then,  behave  otherwise  ? 


CHAPTEE    XXIX. 

OP  COURAGE. 

THE  essence  of  good  and  evil  is  a  certain  disposi- 
tion of  the  will. 

What  are  things  outward  then  ? 

Materials  on  which  the  will  may  act,  in  attaining 
its  own  good  or  evil. 

How,  then,  will  it  attain  good  ? 

If  it  be  not  dazzled  by  its  own  materials ;  for  right 
principles  concerning  these  materials  keep  the  will  in 
a  good  state ;  but  perverse  and  distorted  principles, 
in  a  bad  one.  This  law  hath  God  ordained,  who  says, 
"  If  you  wish  for  good,  receive  it  from  yourself. " 
You  say,  No ;  but  from  another.  "  Nay ;  but  from 
yourself." 

Accordingly,  when  a  tyrant  threatens,  and  sends  for 


84  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

me,  I  say,  Against  what  is  your  threatening  pointed  ? 
If  he  says,  "  I  will  chain  you" ;  I  answer,  It  is  my 
hands  and  feet  that  you  threaten.  If  he  says,  "  I 
will  cut  off  your  head "%  I  answer,  It  is  my  head 
that  you  threaten.  If  he  says,  "  I  will  throw  you 
into  prison  ";  I  answer,  It  is  the  whole  of  this  paltry 
body  that  you  threaten ;  and,  if  he  threatens  banish- 
ment, just  the  same. 

"  Does  not  he  threaten  you,  then  ?  " 

If  I  am  persuaded,  that  these  things  are  nothing  to 
me,  he  does  not ;  but,  if  I  fear  any  of  them,  it  is  me 
that  he  threatens.  Who  is  it,  after  all,  that  I  fear  ? 
The  master  of  what  ?  Of  things  in  my  own  power  ? 
Of  these  no  one  is  the  master.  Of  things  not  in  my 
power  ?     And  what  are  these  to  me  ? 

"  What,  then !  do  you  philosophers  teach  us  a  con- 
tempt of  kings  ?  " 

By  no  means.  Which  of  us  teaches  any  one  to  con- 
tend with  them,  about  things  of  which  they  have  the 
command  ?  Take  my  body  ;  take  my  possessions ; 
take  my  reputation  ;  take  away  even  my  friends.  If 
I  persuade  any  one  to  claim  these  things  as  his  own, 
you  may  justly  accuse  me.  "  Ay ;  but  I  would  com- 
mand your  principles  too."  And  who  hath  given 
you  that  power  ?  How  can  you  conquer  the  principle 
of  another  ?  "By  applying  terror,  I  will  conquer  it." 
Do  not  you  see,  that  what  conquers  itself,  is  not  con- 
quered by  another  ?  And  nothing  but  itself  can  con- 
quer the  will.  Hence,  too,  the  most  excellent  and 
equitable  law  of  God  ;  that  the  better  should  always 
prevail  over  the  worse.     Ten  are  better  than  one. 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  " 

For  chaining,  killing,  dragging  where  they  please ; 
for  taking  away  an  estate.  Thus  ten  conquer  one, 
in  the  cases  wherein  they  are  better. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  85 

"  In  what,  then,  are  they  worse  ?  " 

When  the  one  has  right  principles,  and  the  others 
have  not.  For  can  they  conquer  in  this  case  ?  How 
should  they  ?  If  we  were  weighed  in  a  scale,  must 
not  the  heavier  outweigh  ? 

"How  then  came  Socrates  to  suffer  such  things 
from  the  Athenians  ?  " 

0  foolish  man !  what  mean  you  by  Socrates  ?  Ex- 
press the  fact  as  it  is.  Are  you  surprised  that  the 
mere  body  of  Socrates  should  be  carried  away,  and 
dragged  to  prison,  by  such  as  were  stronger ;  that  it 
should  be  poisoned  by  hemlock  and  die  ?  Do  these 
things  appear  wonderful  to  you  ?  These  things  un- 
just ?  Is  it  for  such  things  as  these  that  you  accuse 
God?  Had  Socrates,  then,  no  compensation  for 
them?  In  what,  then,  to  him,  did  the  essence  of 
good  consist  ?  Whom  shall  we  regard ;  you,  or  him  ? 
And  what  says  he  ?  "  Anytus  and  Melitus  may  in- 
deed kill ;  but  hurt  me  they  cannot. "  And  again  : 
"  If  it  so  pleases  God,  so  let  it  be." 

But  show  me,  that  he  who  has  the  worse  principles 
can  get  the  advantage  over  him  who  has  the  better. 
You  never  will  show  it,  nor  anything  like  it ;  for  the 
Law  of  Nature  and  of  God  is  this,  —  let  the  better 
always  prevail  over  the  worse. 

"In  what ?" 

In  that  wherein  it  is  better.  One  body  may  be 
stronger  than  another  ;  many,  than  one  ;  and  a  thief, 
than  one  who  is  not  a  thief.  Thus  I,  for  instance, 
lost  my  lamp ;  because  the  thief  was  better  at  keep- 
ing awake  than  I.  But  for  that  lamp  he  paid  the 
price  of  becoming  a  thief;  for  that  lamp  he  lost  his 
virtue  and  became  like  a  wild  beast.  This  seemed  to 
him  a  good  bargain ;  and  so  let  it  be ! 


86  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

But  some  one  takes  me  by  the  collar,  and  drags  me 
to  the  forum ;  and  then  all  the  rest  cry  out,  "  Phi- 
losopher, what  good  do  your  principles  do  you  ?  See, 
you  are  being  dragged  to  prison ;  see,  you  are  going 
to  lose  your  head  !  "  And,  pray,  what  rule  of  philos- 
ophy could  I  contrive,  that,  when  a  stronger  than  my- 
self lays  hold  on  my  collar,  I  should  not  be  dragged  ? 
Or  that,  when  ten  men  pull  me  at  once,  and  throw 
me  into  prison,  I  should  not  be  thrown  there  ?  But 
have  I  learned  nothing,  then  ?  I  have  learned  to 
know,  whatever  happens,  that,  if  it  concerns  not  my 
will,  it  is  nothing  to  me.  Have  my  principles,  then, 
done  me  no  good  ?  What,  then !  do  I  seek  for  any- 
thing else  to  do  me  good,  but  what  I  have  learned  ? 
Afterwards,  as  I  sit  in  prison,  I  say,  He  who  has 
made  all  this  disturbance  neither  recognizes  any 
guidance,  nor  heeds  any  teaching,  nor  is  it  any  con- 
cern to  him,  to  know  what  philosophers  say,  or  do. 
Let  him  alone. 

"  Come  forth  again  from  prison."  If  you  have  no 
further  need  for  me  in  prison,  I  will  come  out ;  if  you 
want  me  again,  I  will  return.  "  For  how  long  ? " 
Just  so  long  as  reason  requires  I  should  continue  in 
this  body;  when  that  is  over,  take  it,  and  fare  ye 
well.  Only  let  us  not  act  inconsiderately,  nor  from 
cowardice,  nor  on  slight  grounds,  since  that  would  be 
contrary  to  the  will  of  God  ;  for  he  hath  need  of  such 
a  world,  and  such  beings  to  live  on  earth.  But,  if 
he  sounds  a  retreat,  as  he  did  to  Socrates,  we  are  to 
obey  him  when  he  sounds  it,  as  our  General. 

"  Well ;  but  can  these  things  be  explained  to  the 
multitude  ?  " 

To  what  purpose  ?  Is  it  not  sufficient  to  be  con- 
vinced one's  self?    Wken  children  come  to  us  clap- 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  87 

ping  their  hands,  and  saying,  "  To-morrow  is  the 
good  feast  of  Saturn  " ;  do  we  tell  them  that  good 
doth  not  consist  in  such  things  ?  By  no  means  ;  but 
we  clap  our  hands  also.  Thus,  when  you  are  unable 
to  convince  any  one,  consider  him  as  a  child,  and  clap 
your  hands  with  him ;  or,  if  you  will  not  do  that,  at 
least  hold  your  tongue.  These  things  we  ought  to 
remember ;  and,  when  we  are  called  to  any  trial,  to 
know,  that  an  opportunity  is  come  of  showing  wheth- 
er we  have  been  well  taught.  For  he  who  goes  from 
a  philosophical  lecture  to  a  difficult  point  of  practice, 
is  like  a  young  man  who  has  been  studying  to  solve 
syllogisms.  If  you  propose  an  easy  one,  he  says, 
«  Give  me  rather  a  fine  intricate  one,  that  I  may  try 
my  strength."  Thus  athletic  champions  are  dis- 
pleased with  a  slight  antagonist.  "  He  cannot  lift 
me,"  says  one.  Is  this  a  youth  of  spirit  ?  No  ;  for 
when  the  occasion  calls  upon  him,  he  may  begin  cry- 
ing, and  say,  "  I  wanted  to  learn  a  little  longer  first." 
Learn  what  ?  If  you  did  not  learn  these  things  to 
show  them  in  practice,  why  did  you  learn  them  ? 

I  trust  there  must  be  some  one  among  you,  sitting 
here,  who  feels  secret  pangs  of  impatience,  and  says : 
"  When  will  such  a  trial  come  to  my  share,  as  hath 
now  fallen  to  his  ?  Must  I  sit  wasting  my  life  in  a 
corner,  when  I  might  be  crowned  at  Olympia  ?  When 
will  any  one  bring  the  news  of  such  a  combat,  for 
me?"  Such  should  be  the  disposition  of  you  all. 
Even  among  the  gladiators  of  Caesar,  there  are  some 
who  bear  it  very  ill,  that  they  are  not  brought  upon 
the  stage,  and  matched ;  and  who  offer  vows  to  God, 
and  address  the  officers,  begging  to  fight.  And  will 
none  among  you  appear  such  ?  I  would  willingly 
take  a  voyage  on  purpose  to  see  how  a  champion  of 
mine  acts ;  how  he  meets  his  occasion. 


88  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

This  is  not  the  contest  I  would  choose,  say  you. 
Is  it  in  your  power,  then,  to  make  the  selection  ? 
Such  a  body  is  given  you,  such  parents,  such  broth- 
ers, such  a  country,  and  such  a  rank  in  it;  and 
then  you  come  to  me,  to  change  the  conditions ! 
Have  you  not  abilities  to  manage  that  which  is  given 
you  ?  You  should  say  to  me,  "  It  is  your  business 
to  propose  ;  mine,  to  treat  the  subject  well."  No ;  but 
you  say,  "  Do  not  meet  me  with  such  a  perplexity, 
but  such  a  one  ;  do  not  offer  such  an  obstacle  to  me, 
but  such  a  one."  There  will  be  a  time,  I  suppose, 
when  tragedians  will  fancy  themselves  to  be  mere 
masks,  and  buskins,  and  long  train.  These  things 
are  your  materials,  man,  and  your  stage-properties. 
Speak  something  ;  that  we  may  know  whether  you 
are  a  tragedian,  or  a  buffoon ;  for  both  have  all  the 
rest  in  common.  Suppose  any  one  should  take  away 
his  buskins  and  his  mask,  and  bring  him  upon  the 
stage,  in  his  common  dress,  is  the  tragedian  lost,  or 
does  he  remain?  If  he  has  a  voice,  he  remains. 
"  Here,  this  instant,  take  upon  you  the  command." 
I  take  it ;  and,  taking  it,  I  show  how  a  skilful  man 
performs  the  part.  "  Now  lay  aside  your  robe ;  put 
on  rags,  and  come  upon  the  stage  in  that  character." 
What  then  ?  Is  it  not  in  my  power  to  express  the 
character  by  a  suitable  voice  ? 

"  In  what  character  do  you  now  appear  ? "  As  a 
witness  summoned  by  God.  "  Come  you,  then,  and 
bear  witness  for  me ;  for  you  are  a  fit  witness  to  be 
produced  by  me.  Is  anything  which  is  inevitable,  to 
be  classed  as  either  good  or  evil?  Do  I  hurt  any 
one  ?  Have  I  made  the  good  of  each  individual  to 
rest  on  any  one,  but  himself?  What  evidence  do 
you  give  for  God  ? " 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  bd 

u  I  am  in  a  miserable  condition,  0  Lord ;  1  am  un- 
done :  no  mortal  cares  for  me ;  no  mortal  gives  me 
anything ;  all  blame  me  ;  all  speak  ill  of  me." 

Is  this  the  evidence  you  are  to  give  ?  And  will 
you  bring  disgrace  upon  his  summons,  who  hath  con- 
ferred such  an  honor  upon  you,  and  thought  you 
worthy  of  being  produced  as  a  witness  in  such  a 
cause  ? 

But  some  one  in  authority  has  given  a  sentence. 
"I  judge  you  to  be  impious  and  profane."  What 
has  befallen  you  ?  —  I  have  been  judged  to  be  impi- 
ous and  profane.  — Anything  else  ?  —  Nothing.  — 
Suppose  he  had  passed  his  judgment  upon  any  pro- 
cess of  reasoning,  and  pronounced  it  to  be  a  false 
conclusion,  that,  if  it  be  day,  it  is  light ;  what  would 
have  befallen  the  proposition  ?  In  this  case,  who  is 
judged,  who  condemned  ;  the  proposition,  or  he  who 
cannot  understand  it?  Does  he  know,  who  claims 
the  power  of  ruling  in  your  case,  what  pious  or  impi- 
ous means  ?  Has  he  made  it  his  study  or  learned  it  ? 
Where  ?  From  whom  ?  A  musician  would  not  re- 
gard him,  if  he  pronounced  bass  to  be  treble ;  nor  a 
mathematician,  if  he  passed  sentence,  that  lines 
drawn  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference,  are  not 
equal.  And  shall  he,  who  is  instructed  in  the  truth, 
respect  an  ignorant  man,  when  he  pronounces  upon 
pious  and  impious,  just  and  unjust  ? 

"  O  the  persecutions  to  which  the  wise  are  ex- 
posed !  "  Is  it  here  that  you  have  learned  this  talk  ? 
Why  do  not  you  leave  such  pitiful  discourse  to  idle, 
pitiful  fellows;  and  let  them  sit  in  a  corner,  and 
receive  some  little  mean  pay ;  or  grumble,  that  nor 
body  gives  them  anything  ?  But  do  you  come,  and 
make  some  use  of  what  you  have  learned.     It  is  not 


90  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

reasonings  that  are  wanted  now,  for  there  are  books 
stuffed  full  of  stoical  reasonings. 

"  What  is  wanted,  then  ?  " 

The  man  who  shall  apply  them;  whose  actions 
may  bear  testimony  to  his  doctrines.  Assume  this 
character  for  me,  that  we  may  no  longer  make  use  in 
the  schools  of  the  examples  of  the  ancients,  but  may 
have  some  examples  of  our  own. 

"  To  whom,  then,  does  the  contemplation  of  these 
abstractions  belong  ?  " 

To  any  one  who  has  leisure  for  them.  For  man  is 
a  being  fond  of  contemplation.  But  it  is  shameful  to 
take  only  such  view  of  things  as  truant  slaves  take 
of  a  play.  We  ought  to  sit  calmly,  and  listen, 
whether  to  the  actor,  or  to  the  musician ;  and  not  do 
like  those  poor  fellows,  who  come  in  and  admire  the 
actor,  constantly  glancing  about  them,  and  then,  if 
any  one  happens  to  name  their  master,  run  fright- 
ened away.  It  is  shameful  for  a  philosopher,  thus  to 
contemplate  the  works  of  nature.  What,  in  this  par- 
allel case,  stands  for  the  master?  Man  is  not  the 
master  of  man;  but  death,  and  life,  and  pleasure, 
and  pain  ;  for  without  these,  bring  even  Caesar  to 
me,  and  you  will  see  how  intrepid  I  shall  be.  But,  if 
he  comes  thundering  and  lightening  with  these,  and 
these  are  the  objects  of  my  terror ;  what  do  I  else, 
but,  like  the  truant  slave,  acknowledge  my  master  ? 
While  I  have  any  respite  from  these,  as  the  truant 
comes  into  the  theatre,  so  I  bathe,  drink,  sing ;  but 
all  with  terror  and  anxiety.  But,  if  I  free  myself 
from  my  masters,  that  is,  from  such  things  as  render 
a  master  terrible,  what  trouble,  what  master  have  I 
remaining  ? 

"  Shall  we  then  insist  upon  these  things  with  all 
men  ?  " 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  91 

No.  But  make  allowance  for  the  ignorant,  and 
say,  This  poor  man  advises  me  to  what  he  thinks 
good  for  himself.  I  excuse  him ;  for  Socrates,  too, 
excused  the  jailer,  who  wept  when  he  was  to  drink 
the  poison ;  and  said,  "  How  heartily  he  sheds  tears 
for  us."  Was  it  to  him  that  Socrates  said,  "  For  this 
reason  we  sent  the  women  out  of  the  way  "  ?  No  ; 
but  to  his  friends ;  to  such  as  were  capable  of  hear- 
ing it ;  while  he  humored  the  other,  as  a  child. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

WEAPONS   READY   FOR   DIFFICULT    OCCASIONS. 

WHEN  you  are  going  before  any  of  the  great,  re- 
member, that  there  is  another,  who  sees  from 
above,  what  passes,  and  whom  you  ought  to  please, 
rather  than  man.     He,  therefore,  asks  you : 

"  In  the  schools,  what  did  you  use  to  call  exile,  and 
prison,  and  chains,  and  death,  and  calumny  ?  " 

I  ?     Indifferent  things. 

"  What,  then,  do  you  call  them  now  ?  Are  they 
at  all  changed  ? " 

No. 

"  Are  you  changed,  then  ?  " 

No. 

"  Tell  me,  then,  what  things  are  indifferent.'* 

Things  not  dependent  on  our  own  will. 

"  What  is  the  inference  ?  " 

Things  not  dependent  on  my  own  will  are  nothing 
to  me. 

"  Tell  me,  likewise,  what  appeared  to  be  the  good 
of  man." 


92  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

Rectitude  of  will,  and  to  understand  the  appear- 
ances of  things. 

"  What  his  end  ?  " 

To  follow  Thee. 

"  Do  you  say  the  same  things  now,  too  ?  " 

Yes.     I  do  say  the  same  things,  even  now. 

Well,  go  in  then  boldly,  and  mindful  of  these 
things  ;  and  you  will  show  the  difference  between  the 
instructed  and  the  ignorant.  I  protest,  I  think  you 
will  then  have  such  thoughts  as  these :  "  Why  do 
we  provide  so  many  and  great  resources  for  noth- 
ing ?  Is  the  power,  the  antechamber,  the  attend- 
ants, the  guards,  no  more  than  this  ?  Is  it  for  these, 
that  I  have  listened  to  so  many  dissertations  ?  These 
are  nothing ;  and  yet  I  had  qualified  myself  as  for 
some  great  encounter." 


BOOK  II. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THAT    COURAGE   IS   NOT   INCONSISTENT    WITH    CAUTION. 

THERE  is  an  assertion  of  the  philosophers  which 
may  perhaps  appear  a  paradox  to  many  ;  yet  let 
us  fairly  examine  whether  it  be  true :  —  that  it  is 
possible  in  all  things,  to  act  at  once  with  caution  and 
courage.  For  caution  seems,  in  some  measure,  con- 
trary to  courage  ;  and  contraries  are  by  no  means 
consistent.  The  appearance  of  a  paradox  in  the  pres- 
ent case  seems  to  me  to  arise  as  follows.  If  indeed 
we  assert,  that  courage  and  caution  are  to  be  used  in 
the  same  instances,  we  might  justly  be  accused  of 
uniting  contradictions ;  but,  in  the  way  that  we  af- 
firm it,  where  is  the  absurdity  ?  For,  if  what  has 
been  so  often  said,  and  so  often  demonstrated,  be  cer- 
tain, that  the  essence  of  good  and  evil  consists  in  the 
use  of  things  as  they  appear,  and  that  things  inevi- 
table are  not  to  be  classed  either  as  good  or  evil, 
what  paradox  do  the  philosophers  assert,  if  they  say, 
"  Where  events  are  inevitable,  meet  them  with  cour- 
age, but  otherwise,  with  caution  "  ?  For  in  these  last 
cases  only,  if  evil  lies  in  a  perverted  will,  is  caution  to 
be  used.  And  if  things  inevitable  and  uncontrollable 
are  nothing  to  us,  in  these  we  are  to  make  use  of 
courage.  Thus  we  shall  be  at  once  cautious  and 
courageous  ;  and,  indeed,  courageous  on  account  of 
this  very  caution  ;  for  by  using  caution,  with  regard 


94  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

to  things  really  evil,  we   shall   gain   courage,  with 
regard  to  what  are  not  so. 

But  we  are  in  the  same  condition  with  deer  ;  when 
these  in  a  fright  fly  from  the  plumes  [which  hunters 
wave],  whither  do  they  turn,  and  to  what  do  they 
retire  for  safety  ?  To  the  nets.  And  thus  they  are 
undone,  by  inverting  the  objects  of  fear  and  confi- 
dence. Thus  we,  too.  When  do  we  yield  to  fear  ? 
About  things  inevitable.  When,  on  the  other  hand, 
do  we  behave  with  courage,  as  if  there  were  noth- 
ing to  be  dreaded  ?  About  things  that  might  be  con- 
trolled by  will.  To  be  deceived  then,  or  to  act  rashly 
or  imprudently,  or  to  indulge  a  scandalous  desire, 
we  treat  as  of  no  importance,  in  our  effort  to  bring 
about  things  which  we  cannot,  after  all,  control.  But 
where  death,  or  exile,  or  pain,  or  ignominy,  is  con- 
cerned, then  comes  the  retreat,  the  nutter,  and  the 
fright.  Hence,  as  it  must  be  with  those  who  err  in 
matters  of  the  greatest  importance,  we  turn  what 
should  be  courage  into  rashness,  desperation,  reck- 
lessness, effrontery ;  and  what  should  be  caution  be- 
comes timid,  base,  and  full  of  fears  and  perturbations. 
Let  one  apply  his  spirit  of  caution  to  things  within  the 
reach  of  his  own  will,  then  he  will  have  the  subject  of 
avoidance  within  his  own  control ;  but  if  he  transfers 
it  to  that  which  is  inevitable,  trying  to  shun  that  which 
he  cannot  control  and  others  can,  then  he  must  needs 
fear,  be  harassed  and  be  disturbed.  For  it  is  not  death 
or  pain  that  is  to  be  dreaded,  but  the  fear  of  pain  or 
death.     Hence  we  commend  him  who  says  : 

"  Death  is  no  ill,  but  shamefully  to  die."  * 

Courage,  then,  ought  to  be  opposed  to  death,  and 
caution  to  the  fear  of  death ;  whereas  we,  on  the  con- 

•  Euripides,  Fragments.  —  H. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  95 

trary,  oppose  to  death,  flight ;  and  to  these  our  false 
convictions  concerning  it,  recklessness,  and  despera- 
tion, and  assumed  indifference. 

Socrates  used,  very  properly,  to  call  these  things 
masks ;  for,  as  masks  appear  shocking  and  formidable 
to  children,  from  their  inexperience  ;  so  we  are  thus 
affected  with  regard  to  things,  for  no  other  reason. 
For  what  constitutes  a  child  ?  Ignorance.  What 
constitutes  a  child  ?  Want  of  instruction  ;  for  they 
are  our  equals,  so  for  as  their  degree  of  knowledge 
permits.  What  is  death  ?  A  mask.  Turn  it  on  the 
other  side  and  be  convinced.  See,  it  doth  not  bite. 
This  little  body  and  spirit  must  be  again,  as  once,  sep- 
arated, either  now  or  hereafter ;  why,  then,  are  you 
displeased  if  it  be  now  ?  For  if  not  now  it  will  be 
hereafter.  Why  ?  To  fulfil  the  course  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  for  that  hath  need  of  some  things  present, 
others  to  come,  and  others  already  completed. 

What  is  pain?  A  mask.  Turn  it  and  be  con- 
vinced. 

This  weak  flesh  is  sometimes  affected  by  harsh, 
sometimes  by  smooth  impressions.  If  suffering  be 
beyond  endurance,  the  door  is  open  ;  till  then,  bear  it. 
It  is  fit  that  the  final  door  should  be  open  against  all 
accidents,  since  thus  we  escape  all  trouble. 

What,  then,  is  the  fruit  of  these  principles  ?  What 
it  ought  to  be ;  the  most  noble,  and  the  most  suitable 
to  the  wise,  —  tranquillity,  security,  freedom.  For 
in  this  case,  we  are  not  to  give  credit  to  the  many, 
who  say,  that  none  ought  to  be  educated  but  the  free ; 
but  rather  to  the  philosophers,  who  say,  that  the  wise 
alone  are  free. 

"  How  so  ?  " 

Thus :  is  freedom  anything  else  than  the  power  of 
living  as  we  like  ? 


96  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

"  Nothing  else." 

Well ;  tell  me  then,  do  you  like  to  live  in  error  ? 

"  We  do  not.     No  one,  who  lives  in  error,  is  free." 

Do  you  like  to  live  in  fear  ?  Do  you  like  to  live  in 
sorrow  ?     Do  you  like  to  live  in  perturbation  ? 

"  By  no  means." 

No  one,  therefore,  in  a  state  of  fear,  or  sorrow,  or 
perturbation,  is  free  ;  but  whoever  is  delivered  from 
sorrow,  fear,  and  perturbation,  by  the  same  means  is 
delivered  likewise  from  slavery.  How  shall  we  be- 
lieve you,  then,  good  legislators,  when  you  say,  "  We 
allow  none  to  be  educated  but  the  free  "  ?  For  the 
philosophers  say,  "  We  allow  none  to  be  free  but  the 
wise  "  ;  that  is,  God  doth  not  allow  it. 

"  What,  then,  when  any  person  hath  turned  his 
slave  about,  before  the  consul,*  has  he  done  nothing  ?  " 

Yes,  he  has. 

"What?" 

He  has  turned  his  slave  about,  before  the  consul. 

"  Nothing  more  ?  " 

Yes.     He  pays  a  fine  for  him. 

"Well,  then;  is  not  the  man,  who  has  gone 
through  this  ceremony,  rendered  free  ? " 

Only  so  far  as  he  is  emancipated  from  perturbation. 
Pray,  have  you,  who  are  able  to  give  this  freedom  to 
others,  no  master  of  your  own  ?  Are  you  not  a  slave 
to  money  ?  To  a  girl  ?  To  a  boy  ?  To  a  tyrant  ? 
To  some  friend  of  a  tyrant  ?  Else,  why  do  you  trem- 
ble when  any  one  of  these  is  in  question  ?  Therefore, 
I  so  often  repeat  to  you,  let  this  be  your  study  and 
constant  pursuit,  to  learn  in  what  it  is  necessary  to  be 
courageous,  and  in  what  cautious  ;  courageous  against 
the  inevitable,  cautious  so  far  as  your  will  can  control. 

*  The  prescribed  form  of  manumission.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  97 

"  But  have  I  not  read  my  essay  to  you  ?  Do  not 
you  know  what  I  am  doing  ?  " 

In  what  ? 

"  In  my  essays." 

Show  me  in  what  state  you  are,  as  to  desires  and 
aversions  ;  whether  you  do  not  fail  of  what  you  wish, 
and  incur  what  you  would  avoid ;  but,  as  to  these 
commonplace  essays,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  take 
them,  and  destroy  them. 

"  Why,  did  not  Socrates  write  ?  " 

Yes  ;  who  so  much  ?  But  how  ?  As  he  had  not 
always  one  at  hand,  to  argue  against  his  principles, 
or  he  argued  against  in  his  turn,  he  argued  with  and 
examined  himself;  and  always  made  practical  appli- 
cation of  some  one  great  principle  at  least.  These 
are  the  things  which  a  philosopher  writes  ;  but  such 
commonplaces  as  those  of  which  I  speak,  he  leaves 
to  the  foolish,  or  to  the  happy  creatures  whom  idle- 
ness furnishes  with  leisure  ;  or  to  such  as  are  too 
weak  to  regard  consequences.  And  yet  will  you, 
when  opportunity  offers,  come  forward  to  exhibit  and 
read  aloud  such  things,  and  take  a  pride  in  them  ? 

"  Pray,  see  how  I  compose  dialogues. " 

Talk  not  of  that,  man,  but  rather  be  able  to  say, 
See  how  I  accomplish  my  purposes  \  see  how  I  avert 
what  I  wish  to  shun.  Set  death  before  me  ;  set  pain, 
a  prison,  disgrace,  doom,  and  you  will  know  me. 
This  should  be  the  pride  of  a  young  man  come  out 
from  the  schools.  Leave  the  rest  to  others.  Let  no 
one  ever  hear  you  waste  a  word  upon  them,  nor  suf- 
fer it,  if  any  one  commends  you  for  them  ;  but  admit 
that  you  are  nobody,  and  that  you  know  nothing. 
Appear  to  know  only  this,  never  to  fail  nor  fall.  Let 
others   study   cases,  problems,  and   syllogisms.     Do 


98  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

you  rather  contemplate  death,  change,  torture,  exile ; 
and  all  these  with  courage >  and  reliance  upon  Him, 
who  hath  called  you  to  them,  and  judged  you  worthy 
a  post  in  which  you  may  show  what  reason  can  do, 
when  it  encounters  the  inevitable.  And  thus,  this 
paradox  ceases  to  be  a  paradox,  that  we  must  be  at 
once  cautious  and  courageous;  courageous  against 
the  inevitable ;  and  cautious,  when  events  are  within 
our  own  control. 


CHAPTER    II. 

OF   TRANQUILLITY. 

CONSIDER,  you  who  are  going  to  take  your  trial, 
what  you  wish  to  preserve,  and  in  what  to  suc- 
ceed. For  if  you  wish  to  preserve  a  will  in  harmony 
with  nature,  you  are  entirely  safe ;  everything  goes 
well ;  you  have  no  trouble  on  your  hands.  While 
you  wish  to  preserve  that  freedom  which  belongs  to 
you,  and  are  contented  with  that,  for  what  have  you 
longer  to  be  anxious  ?  For  who  is  the  master  of 
things  like  these  ?  Who  can  take  them  away  ?  If 
you  wish  to  be  a  man  of  modesty  and  fidelity,  who 
shall  prevent  you  ?  If  you  wish  not  to  be  restrained 
or  compelled,  who  shall  compel  you  to  desires  con- 
trary to  your  principles  ;  to  aversions,  contrary  to 
your  opinion  ?  The  judge,  perhaps,  will  pass  a  sen- 
tence against  you,  which  he  thinks  formidable  ;  but 
can  he  likewise  make  you  receive  it  with  shrink- 
ing ?  Since,  then,  desire  and  aversion  are  in  your 
own  power,  for  what  have  you  to  be  anxious  ?  Let 
this  be  your  introduction  ;  this  your  narration ;  this 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  99 

your  proof ;  this  your  conclusion  ;  this  your  victory  ; 
and  this  your  applause.  Thus  said  Socrates  to  one 
who  put  him  in  mind  to  prepare  himself  for  his  trial : 
11  Do  you  not  think  that  I  have  been  preparing  my- 
self for  this  very  thing,  my  whole  life  long  ?"  —  By 
what  kind  of  preparation  ?  —  "  I  have  attended  to  my 
own  work."  —  What  mean  you?  —  "I  have  done 
nothing  unjust,  either  in  public,  or  in  private  life." 

But  if  you  wish  to  make  use  of  externals  too,  your 
body,  your  estate,  your  dignity ;  I  advise  you  imme- 
diately to  prepare  yourself  by  every  possible  prepara- 
tion ;  and  besides,  to  consider  the  disposition  of  your 
judge,  and  of  your  adversary.  If  it  be  necessary  to 
embrace  his  knees,  do  so ;  if  to  weep,  weep ;  if  to 
groan,  groan.  For  when  you  have  once  made  your- 
self a  slave  to  externals,  be  a  slave  wholly ;  do  not 
struggle,  and  be  alternately  willing  and  unwilling, 
but  be  simply  and  thoroughly  the  one  or  the  other ; 
free,  or  a  slave  ;  instructed,  or  ignorant ;  a  game-cock, 
or  a  craven ;  either  bear  to  be  beaten  till  you  die,  or 
give  out  at  once  ;  and  do  not  be  soundly  beaten  first, 
and  then  give  out  at  last. 

If  both  alternatives  be  shameful,  learn  immediately 
to  distinguish  where  good  and  evil  lie.  They  lie 
where  truth  likewise  lies.  Where  truth  and  nature 
dictate,  there  exercise  caution  or  courage.  Why,  do 
you  think  that,  if  Socrates  had  concerned  himself 
about  externals,  he  would  have  said,  when  he  ap- 
peared at  his  trial,  "  Anytus  and  Melitus  may  indeed 
kill,  but  hurt  me  they  cannot"  ?  Was  he  so  foolish 
as  not  to  see  that  this  way  did  not  lead  to  safety,  but 
the  contrary  ?  What,  then,  is  the  reason,  that  he  not 
only  disregarded,  but  defied,  his  judges  ?  Thus  my 
friend  Heraclitus,  in  a  trifling  suit,  about  a  little  es- 


100  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

tate  at  Rhodes,  after  having  proved  to  the  judges  that 
his  cause  was  good,  when  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
of  his  speech,  "  I  will  not  entreat  you,"  said  he ; 
"  nor  be  anxious  as  to  what  judgment  you  give  ;  for 
it  is  rather  you  who  are  to  be  judged,  than  I."  And 
thus  he  lost  his  suit.  What  need  was  there  of  this  ? 
Be  content  not  to  entreat ;  yet  do  not  proclaim  that 
you  will  not  entreat ;  unless  it  be  a  proper  time  to 
provoke  the  judges  designedly,  as  in  the  case  of  So- 
crates. But  if  you  too  are  preparing  such  a  speech 
as  his,  what  do  you  wait  for  ?  Why  do  you  consent 
to  be  tried  ?  For  if  you  wish  to  be  hanged,  have  pa- 
tience, and  the  gibbet  will  come.  But  if  you  choose 
rather  to  consent,  and  make  your  defence  as  well  as 
you  can,  all  the  rest  is  to  be  ordered  accordingly ; 
with  a  due  regard,  however,  to  the  preservation  of 
your  own  proper  character. 

For  this  reason  it  is  absurd  to  call  upon  me  for 
specific  advice.  How  should  I  know  what  to  advise 
you  ?  Ask  me  rather  to  teach  you  to  accommodate 
yourself  to  whatever  may  be  the  event.  The  former 
is  just  as  if  an  illiterate  person  should  say,  "  Tell  me 
how  to  write  down  some  name  that  is  proposed  to 
me";  and  I  show  him  how  to  write  the  name  of 
Dion  ;  and  then  another  comes,  and  asks  him  to  write 
the  name,  not  of  Dion,  but  of  Theon  ;  —  what  will  be 
the  consequence  ?  What  will  he  write  ?  Whereas,  if 
you  make  writing  your  study,  you  are  ready  prepared 
for  whatever  word  may  occur  ;  if  not,  how  can  I  ad- 
vise you  ?  For,  if  the  actual  case  should  suggest 
something  else,  what  will  you  say,  or  how  will  you 
say,  or  how  will  you  act  ?  Remember,  then,  the  gen- 
eral rule,  and  you  will  need  no  special  suggestions ; 
but  if  you  are  absorbed  in  externals,  you  must  neces- 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  101 

sarily  be  tossed  up  and  down,  according  to  the  incli- 
nation of  your  master. 

Who  is  your  master?     He  who    controls    those 
things  which  you  seek  or  shun. 


CHAPTER    III. 

CONCERNING     SUCH     AS     RECOMMEND      PERSONS     TO     THE 
PHILOSOPHERS 

DIOGENES  rightly  answered  one  who  desired  let- 
ters of  recommendation  from  him :  "At  first 
sight  he  will  know  you  to  be  a  man;  and  whether 
you  are  a  good  or  a  bad  man,  if  he  has  any  skill  in 
distinguishing,  he  will  know  likewise  ;  and,  if  he  has 
not,  he  will  never  know  it,  though  I  should  write  a 
thousand  times. "  Just  as  if  you  were  a  piece  of  coin, 
and  should  desire  to  be  recommended  to  any  person 
as  good,  in  order  to  be  tried  ;  —  if  it  be  to  an  assay er, 
he  will  know  your  value,  for  you  will  recommend 
yourself. 

We  ought,  therefore,  in  life  also,  to  have  some- 
thing analogous  to  this  skill  in  gold  ;  that  one  may 
be  able  to  say,  like  the  assayer,  Bring  me  whatever 
piece  you  will,  and  I  will  find  out  its  value  ;  or,  as  I 
would  say  with  regard  to  syllogisms,  Bring  me  whom- 
soever you  will,  and  I  will  distinguish  for  you,  wheth- 
er he  knows  how  to  solve  syllogisms,  or  not.  Why  ? 
Because  I  can  do  that  myself,  and  have  that  faculty 
which  is  necessary  for  one,  who  can  discern  persons 
skilled  in  such  solutions.  But  how  do  I  act  in  life  ? 
I  sometimes  call  a  thing  good ;  at  other  times,  bad. 
What  is  the  cause  of  this  ?     Something  contrary  to 


102  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

what  occurs  to  me  in  syllogisms,  —  ignorance,  and 
inexperience. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CONCERNING   A   MAN    WHO    HAD    BEEN    GUILTY   OP   ADUL- 
TERY. 

JUST  as  he  was  once  saying,  that  man  is  made  for 
fidelity,  and  that  whoever  subverts  this,  subverts 
the  peculiar  property  of  man ;  there  entered  one  of 
the  so-called  literary  men,  who  had  been  found  guilty 
of  adultery,  in  that  city.  —  But,  continued  Epictetus, 
if,  laying  aside  that  fidelity  for  which- we  were  born, 
we  'form  designs  against  the  wife  of  our  neighbor, 
what  do  we?  What  else  but  destroy  and  ruin  — 
what?  Fidelity,  honor,  and  sanctity  of  manners. 
Only  these?  And  do  not  we  ruin  neighborhood? 
Friendship  ?  Our  country  ?  In  what  rank  do  we 
then  place  ourselves  ?  How  am  I  to  consider  you, 
sir  ?  As  a  neighbor  ?  A  friend  ?  What  sort  of  one  ? 
As  a  citizen  ?  How  shall  I  trust  you  ?  Indeed,  if 
you  were  some  potsherd,  so  noisome  that  no  use 
could  be  made  of  you,  you  might  be  thrown  on  a 
dunghill,  and  no  mortal  would  take  the  trouble  to 
pick  you  up ;  but  if,  being  a  man,  you  cannot  fill  any 
one  place  in  human  society,  what  shall  we  do  with 
you  ?  For,  suppose  you  cannot  hold  the^place  of  a 
friend,  can  you  hold  even  that  of  a  slave  ?  And  who 
will  trust  you  ?  Why,  then,  should  not  you  also  be 
contented  to  be  thrown  upon  some  dunghill,  as  a  use- 
less vessel,  and  indeed  as  worse  than  that?  Will 
you  say,  after  this,  Has  no  one  any  regard  for  me,  a 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  103 

man  of  letters  ?  Why,  you  are  wicked,  and  fit  for  no 
use.  Just  as  if  wasps  should  take  it  ill  that  no  one 
has  any  regard  for  them ;  but  all  shun,  and  whoever 
can,  beats  them  down.  You  have  such  a  sting,  that 
whoever  you  strike  with  it,  is  thrown  into  troubles 
and  sorrows.  What  would  you  have  us  do  with  you  ? 
There  is  nowhere  to  place  you. 

"  What,  then,  are  not  women  made  by  nature  com- 
mon ?  " 

I  admit  it ;  and  so  is  food  at  table  common  to  those 
who  are  invited.  But,  after  it  is  distributed,  will  you 
go  and  snatch  away  the  share  of  him  who  sits  next 
you ;  or  slyly  steal  it,  or  stretch  out  your  hand,  and 
taste  ;  and,  if  you  cannot  tear  away  any  of  the  meat, 
dip  your  fingers  and  lick  them  ?  A  fine  companion  ! 
A  Socratic  guest  indeed  !  Again ;  is  not  the  theatre 
common  to  all  the  citizens  ?  Therefore  come,  when 
all  are  seated,  if  you  dare,  and  turn  any  one  of  them 
out  of  his  place.  In  this  sense,  only,  are  women 
common  by  nature ;  but  when  the  laws,  like  a  good 
host,  have  distributed  them,  cannot  you,  like  the  rest 
of  the  company,  be  contented  with  your  own  share, 
but  must  you  pilfer,  and  taste  what  belongs  to  an- 
other ? 

"  But  I  am  a  man  of  letters,  and  understand 
Archedemus.,, 

With  all  your  understanding  of  Archedemus,  then, 
you  will  be  an  adulterer,  and  a  rogue ;  and  instead 
of  a  man,  a  wolf  or  an  ape.  For  where  is  the  differ- 
ence? 


104  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    V. 

HOW    NOBLENESS     OP    MIND    MAY    BE    CONSISTENT    WITH 
PRUDENCE. 

THE  materials  of  action  are  variable,  but  the  use 
we  make  of  them  should  be  constant. 

How,  then,  shall  one  combine  composure  and  tran- 
quillity with  energy  ;  doing  nothing  rashly,  nothing 
carelessly  ? 

By  imitating  those  who  play  at  games.  The  dice 
are  variable;  the  pieces  are  variable.  How  do  I 
know  what  will  fall  out  ?  But  it  is  my  business,  to 
manage  carefully  and  dexterously  whatever  happens. 
Thus  in  life  too,  this  is  the  chief  business,  to  consider 
and  discriminate  things  ;  and  say,  "  Externals  are  not 
in  my  power ;  choice  is.  Where  shall  I  seek  good 
and  evil  ?  Within  ;  in  what  is  my  own."  But  in 
what  is  controlled  by  others,  count  nothing  good  or 
evil,  profitable  or  hurtful,  or  any  such  thing. 

What,  then,  are  we  to  treat  these  in  a  careless  way  ? 

By  no  means ;  for  this,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
be  a  perversion  of  the  will,  and  so  contrary  to  nature. 
But  we  are  to  act  with  care,  because  the  use  of  our 
materials  is  not  indifferent ;  and  at  the  same  time 
with  calmness  and  tranquillity,  because  *the  materials 
themselves  are  uncertain.  For  where  a  thing  is  not 
uncertain,  there  no  one  can  restrain  or  compel  me. 
Where  I  am  capable  of  being  restrained  or  compelled, 
the  acquisition  does  not  depend  upon  me  ;  nor  is  it 
either  good  or  evil.  The  use  of  it,  indeed,  is  either 
good  or  evil ;  but  that  does  depend  upon  me.  It  is 
difficult,  I  own,  to  blend  and  unite  tranquillity  in 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  105 

accepting,  and  energy  in  using,  the  facts  of  life ;  but 
it  is  not  impossible ;  if  it  be,  it  is  impossible  to  be 
happy.  How  do  we  act  in  a  voyage  ?  What  is  in 
my  power  ?  To  choose  the  pilot,  the  sailors,  the  day, 
the  hour.  Afterwards  comes  a  storm.  What  have 
I  to  care  for  ?  My  part  is  performed.  This  matter 
belongs  to  another,  to  the  pilot.  But  the  ship  is 
sinking ;  what  then  have  I  to  do  ?  That  which  alone 
I  can  do  ;  I  submit  to  being  drowned,  without  fear, 
without  clamor,  or  accusing  God ;  but  as  one  who 
knows,  that  what  is  born,  must  likewise  die.  For 
I  am  not  eternity,  but  a  man ;  a  part  of  the  whole, 
as  an  hour  is  of  the  day.  I  must  come  like  an  hour, 
and  like  an  hour  must  pass  away.  What  signifies  it 
whether  by  drowning,  or  by  a  fever  ?  For,  in  some 
way  or  other,  pass  I  must. 

This  you  may  see  to  be  the  practice  of  those  who 
play  skilfully  at  ball.  No  one  contends  for  the  ball 
itself,  as  either  a  good  or  an  evil ;  but  how  he  may 
throw  and  catch  it  again.  Here  lies  the  address,  here 
the  art,  the' nimbleness,  the  skill ;  lest  I  fail  to  catch 
it,  even  when  I  open  my  breast  for  it,  while  another 
catches  it,  whenever  I  throw  it.  But  if  we  catch  or 
throw  it,  in  fear  and  trembling,  what  kind  of  play 
will  this  be  ?  How  shall  we  keep  ourselves  steady  ; 
or  how  see  the  order  of  the  game  ?  One  will  say, 
throw :  another,  do  not  throw :  a  third,  you  have 
thrown  once  already.  This  is  a  mere  quarrel ;  not  a 
play.  Therefore  Socrates  well  understood  playing 
at  ball. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

When  he  joked  at  his  trial.  "  Tell  me,"  said  he, 
"  Anytus,  how  can  you  say  that  I  do  not  believe  in 
a  God  ?    What  do  you  think  demons  are  ?     Are  they 


106  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

not  either  the  offspring  of  the  gods,  or  compounded 
of  gods  and  men  ?  "  —  Yes.  —  "  Do  you  think,  then, 
that  one  can  believe  there  are  mules,  and  not  believe 
that  there  are  asses  ? "  This  was  just  as  if  he  had 
been  playing  at  ball.  And  what  was  the  ball  he  had 
to  play  with  ?  Life,  chains,  exile,  a  draught  of  poi- 
son, separation  from  a  wife,  and  leaving  his  children 
orphans.  These  were  what  he  had  to  play  with  ;  and 
yet  he  did  play,  and  threw  the  ball  with  address. 
Thus  we  should  be  careful  as  to  the  play,  but  indiff- 
erent as  to  the  ball.  We  are  by  all  means  to  manage 
our  materials  with  art ;  not  taking  them  for  the  best ; 
but  showing  our  art  about  them,  whatever  they  may 
happen  to  be.  Thus  a  weaver  does  not  make  the 
wool,  but  employs  his  art  upon  what  is  given  him. 
It  is  another  who  gives  you  food,  and  property ;  and 
may  take  them  away,  and  your  paltry  body  too.  Do 
you,  however,  work  upon  the  materials  you  have  re- 
ceived ;  and  then,  if  you  come  off  unhurt,  others,  no 
doubt,  who  meet  you,  will  congratulate  you  on  your 
escape.  But  he  who  has  a  clearer  insight  into  such 
things,  will  praise  and  congratulate  you  if  he  sees 
you  to  have  done  well ;  but  if  you  owe  your  escape 
to  any  unbecoming  action,  he  will  do  the  contrary. 
For  where  there  is  a  reasonable  cause  for  rejoicing, 
there  is  cause  likewise  for  congratulation. 

How,  then,  are  some  external  circumstances  said 
to  be  according  to  nature  ;  others  contrary  to  it  ? 

Only  when  we  are  viewed  as  isolated  individuals. 
I  will  allow  that  it  is  natural  for  the  foot,  (for  in- 
stance,) to  be  clean.  But  if  you  take  it  as  a  foot, 
and  not  as  a  mere  isolated  thing,  it  will  be  fit  that  it 
should  walk  in  the  dirt,  and  tread  upon  thorns  ;  and 
sometimes  that  it  should  even  be  cut  off,  for  the  good 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  10T 

of  the  whole  ;  otherwise  it  is  no  longer  a  foot.  We 
should  reason  in  some  such  manner  concerning  our- 
selves. Who  are  you  ?  A  man.  If  then,  indeed,  you 
consider  yourself  isolatedly,  it  is  natural  that  you 
should  live  to  old  age,  should  be  prosperous  and 
healthy ;  but  if  you  consider  yourself  as  a  man,  and 
as  a  part  of  the  whole,  it  will  be  fit,  in  view  of  that 
whole,  that  you  should  at  one  time  be  sick ;  at  an- 
other, take  a  voyage,  and  be  exposed  to  danger ; 
sometimes  be  in  want ;  and  possibly  die  before  your 
time.  Why,  then,  are  you  displeased  ?  Do  not  you 
know,  that  otherwise,  just  as  the  other  ceases  to  be  a 
foot,  so  you  are  no  longer  a  man  ?  For  what  is  a 
man  ?  A  part  of  a  commonwealth  ;  first  and  chiefly 
of  that  which  includes  both  gods  and  men  ;  and  next, 
of  that  to  which  you  immediately  belong,  which  is  a 
miniature  of  the  universal  city. 

What,  then,  must  I,  at  one  time,  go  before  a  tribu- 
nal ;  must  another,  at  another  time,  be  scorched  by  a 
fever ;  another  be  exposed  to  the  sea ;  another  die  j 
another  be  condemned  ? 

Yes ;  for  it  is  impossible,  in  such  a  body,  in  such  a 
world,  and  among  such  companions,  but  that  some 
one  or  other  of  us  must  meet  with  such  circum- 
stances. Your  business,  then,  is  simply  to  say  what 
you  ought,  to  order  things  as  the  case  requires. 
After  this  comes  some  one  and  says,  "  I  pronounce 
that  you  have  acted  unjustly.".  Much  good  may  it 
do  you ;  I  have  done  my  part.  You  are  to  look  to 
it,  whether  you  have  done  yours ;  for  you  may  as 
well  understand  that  there  is  some  danger  in  that 
quarter  also. 


108  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

OF   CIRCUMSTANCES.* 

A  PROCESS  of  reasoning  may  be  an  indifferent 
thing ;  but  our  judgment  concerning  it  is  not 
indifferent ;  for  it  is  either  knowledge,  or  opinion,  or 
mistake.  So  the  events  of  life  occur  indifferently,  but 
the  use  of  it  is  not  indifferent.  When  you  are  told, 
therefore,  that  these  things  are  indifferent,  do  not,  on 
that  account,  ever  be  careless  ;  nor  yet,  when  you  are 
governed  by  prudence,  be  abject,  and  dazzled  by  ex- 
ternals. It  is  good  to  know  your  own  qualifications 
and  powers  ;  that,  where  you  are  not  qualified,  you 
may  be  quiet,  and  not  angry  that  others  have  there 
the  advantage  of  you.  For  you  too  will  think  it 
reasonable,  that  you  should  have  the  advantage  in 
the  art  of  reasoning  ;  and,  if  others  should  be  angry 
at  it,  you  will  tell  them,  by  way  of  consolation,  "  This 
I  have  learned,  and  you  have  not."  Thus  too,  wher- 
ever practice  is  necessary,  do  not  pretend  to  what  can 
only  be  attained  by  practice  ;  but  leave  the  matter  to 
those  who  are  practised,  and  do  you  be  contented  in 
your  own  serenity. 

"Go,  for  instance,  and  pay  your  court  to  such  a 
person."  —  How?  I  will  not  do  it  abjectly.  So  I 
find  myself  shut  out ;  for  I  have  not  learned  to  get  in 
at  the  window,  and  finding  the  door  shut,  I  must  ne- 
cessarily either  go  back,  or  get  in  at  the  window.  — 
"  But  speak  to  him  at  least."     I  am  willing.     "  In 

*  This  discourse  is  supposed  to  have  been  addressed  to  a  pupil, 
who  feared  to  remain  at  Rome,  because  of  the  persecutions  aimed  by 
Domitian  at  the  philosophers.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  109 

what  manner  ?  "  Not  basely  at  any  rate.  "  Well, 
you  have  failed."  This  is  not  your  business,  but  his. 
Why  do  you  claim  what  belongs  to  another  ?  Al- 
ways remember  what  is  your  own,  and  what  is  an- 
other's, and  you  will  never  be  disturbed. 

Hence  Chrysippus  rightly  says :  While  consequences 
are  uncertain,  I  will  keep  to  those  things  which  will 
bring  me  most  in  harmony  with  nature  ;  for  God  him- 
self hath  formed  me  to  choose  this.  If  I  knew,  that  it 
was  inevitable  for  me  to  be  sick,  I  would  conform  my 
inclinations  that  way  ;  for  even  the  foot,  if  it  had  un- 
derstanding, would  be  inclined  to  get  into  the  dirt. 
For  why  are  ears  of  corn  produced,  if  it  be  not  to 
ripen  ?  and  why  do  they  ripen,  if  not  to  be  reaped  ? 
For  they  are  not  isolated,  individual  things.  If  they 
were  capable  of  sense,  do  you  think  they  would  wish 
never  to  be  reaped  ?  It  would  be  a  curse  upon  ears  of 
corn  not  to  be  reaped,  and  we  ought  to  know  that  it 
would  be  a  curse  upon  man  not  to  die ;  like  that  of 
not  ripening,  and  not  being  reaped.  Since,  then,  it 
is  necessary  for  us  to  be  reaped,  and  we  have,  at  the 
same  time,  understanding  to  know  it,  are  we  angry  at 
it  ?  This  is  only  because  we  neither  know  what  we 
are,  nor  have  we  studied  what  belongs  to  man,  as 
jockies  do  what  belongs  to  horses.  Yet  Chrysantas, 
when  he  was  about  to  strike  an  enemy,  on  hearing  the 
trumpet  sound  a  retreat,  drew  back  his  hand  ;  for  he 
thought  it  more  eligible  to  obey  the  command  of  his 
general,  than  his  own  inclination.*  But  not  one  of 
us,  even  when  necessity  calls,  is  ready  and  willing  to 

*  In  a  speech  which  Cyrus  made  to  his  soldiers,  after  the  battle 
with  the  Assyrians,  he  mentioned  Chrysantas,  one  of  his  captains, 
with  particular  honor,  for  this  instance  of  obedience.  Xenoph.  Cy- 
rop.  IV.  1.  — C. 


110  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

obey  it ;  but  we  weep  and  groan  over  painful  events, 
calling  them  our  "  circumstances.' '  What  circum- 
stances, man  ?  For  if  you  call  what  surrounds  you 
circumstances,  everything  is  a  circumstance ;  but,  if 
by  this  you  mean  hardships,  where  is  the  hardship, 
that  whatever  is  born  must  die  ?  The  instrument  is 
either  a  sword,  or  a  wheel,  or  the  sea,  or  a  tile,  or  a 
tyrant.  And  what  does  it  signify  to  you  by  what  way 
you  descend  to  Hades  ?  All  are  equal ;  but,  if  you 
would  hear  the  truth,  the  shortest  is  that  by  which  a 
tyrant  sends  you.  No  tyrant  was  ever  six  months  in 
cuting  any  man's  throat ;  but  a  fever  often  takes  a 
year.  All  these  things  are  mere  sound,  and  the  ru- 
mor of  empty  names. 

"  My  life  is  in  danger  from  Caesar." 

And  am  I  not  in  danger,  who  dwell  at  Nicopolis, 
where  there  are  so  many  earthquakes?  And  when 
you  yourself  recross  the  Adriatic,  what  is  then  in 
danger  ?     Is  it  not  your  life  ? 

"  Ay,  and  my  convictions  also." 

What,  your  own  ?  How  so  ?  Can  any  one  compel 
you  to  have  any  convictions  contrary  to  your  own 
inclination  ? 

"  But  the  convictions  of  others  too." 

And  what  danger  is  it  of  yours,  if  others  have  false 
convictions  ? 

"  But  I  am  in  danger  of  being  banished." 

What  is  it  to  be  banished  ?  only  to  be  somewhere 
else  than  at  Rome. 

"  Yes  ?  but  what  if  I  should  be  sent  to  Gyaros  ?  " 

If  it  be  thought  best  for  you,  you  will  go ;  if  not,  f 
there  is  another  place  than  Gyaros  whither  you  are 
sure  to  go,  —  where  he  who  now  sends  you  to  Gyaros 
must  go  likewise,  whether  he  will  or  not.    Why,  then, 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  Ill 

do  you  come  to  these,  as  to  great  trials  ?  They  are 
not  equal  to  your  powers.  So  that  an  ingenuous 
young  man  would  say,  it  was  not  worth  while  for  this, 
to  have  read  and  written  so  much,  and  to  have  sat  so 
long  listening  to  this  old  man.  Only  remember  the 
distinction  between  what  is  your  own,  and  what  is  not 
your  own,  and  you  will  never  claim  what  belongs  to 
others.  Judicial  bench  or  dungeon,  each  is  but  a 
place,  one  high,  the  other  low  ;  but  your  will  is 
equal  to  either  condition,  and  if  you  have  a  mind  to 
keep  it  so,  it  may  be  so  kept.  "We  shall  then  become 
imitators  of  Socrates,  when,  even  in  a  prison,  we  are 
able  to  write  hymns  of  praise  ;  *  but  as  we  now  are, 
consider  whether  we  could  even  bear  to  have  another 
say  to  us  in  prison,  "  Shall  I  read  you  a  hymn  of 
praise?"  —  "Why  do  you  trouble  me;  do  you  not 
know  my  sad  situation  ?  In  such  circumstances,  am 
I  able  to  hear  hymns  ?  "  — What  circumstances  ?  — 
"  I  am  going  to  die." — And  are  all  other  men  to  be 
immortal  ? 


CHAPTER    VII. 

OF   DIVINATION. 

FROM  an  unseasonable  regard  to  divination,  we 
omit  many  duties  :  for  what  can  the  diviner  con- 
template besides  death,  danger,  sickness,  and  such 
matters.  When  it  is  necessary,  then,  to  expose  one's 
self  to  danger  for  a  friend,  or  even  a  duty  to  die  for 
him,  what  occasion  have  I  for  divination  ?  Have  not 
I  a  diviner  within,  who  has  told  me  the  essence  of 

*  Diogenes  Laertius  in  his  life  of  Socrates  (c.  42)  gives  the  first 
verse  of  a  hymn  thus  composed  by  him H. 


112  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

good  and  evil ;  and  who  explains  to  me  the  indications 
of  both  ?  What  further  need,  then,  have  I  of  signs  or 
auguries.  Can  I  tolerate  the  other  diviner,  when  he 
says,  "  This  is  for  your  interest "  ?  For  does  he  know 
what  is  for  my  interest  ?  Does  he  know  what  good 
is  ?  Has  he  learned  the  indications  of  good  and  evil, 
as  he  has  those  of  the  victims  ?  If  so,  he  knows  the 
indications  likewise  of  fair  and  base,  just  and  unjust. 
You  may  predict  to  me,  sir,  what  is  to  befall  me ;  life 
or  death,  riches  or  poverty.  But  whether  these  things 
are  for  my  interest,  or  not,  I  shall  not  inquire  of  you. 
"  Why  ?  "  Because  you  cannot  even  give  an  opinion 
about  points  of  grammar ;  and  do  you  give  it  here, 
in  things  about  which  all  men  differ  and  dispute? 
Therefore  the  lady,  who  was  going  to  send  a  month's 
provision  to  Gratilla,*  in  her  banishment,  made  a 
right  answer  to  one,  who  told  her  that  Domitian 
would  seize  it.  "  I  had  rather,"  said  she,  "  that  he 
should  seize  it,  than  I  not  send  it." 

What,  then,  is  it,  that  leads  us  so  often  to  divina- 
tion ?  Cowardice  ;  the  dread  of  events.  Hence  we 
flatter  the  diviners.  "  Pray,  sir,  shall  I  inherit  my 
father's  estate  ?  "  —  "  Let  us  see  :  let  us  sacrifice  upon 
the  occasion."  —  "  Nay,  sir,  just  as  fortune  pleases." 
Then  if  he  predicts  that  we  shall  inherit  it,  we  give 
him  thanks,  as  if  we  received  the  inheritance  from 
him.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  they  impose 
upon  us. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  done  ? 

We  should  come  without  previous  desire  or  aver- 
sion ;  as  a  traveller  inquires  the  road  of  the  person 
he  meets,  without  any  desire  for  that  which  turns  to 

*  A  lady  of  high  rank  at  Rome,  banished  from  Italy,  among 
many  noble  persons,  by  Domitian.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  113 

I 

the  right  hand,  more  than  for  that  to  the  left ;  for  he 
wishes  for  neither  of  these,  but  only  for  that  road  which 
leads  him  properly.  Thus  we  should  come  to  God, 
as  to  a  guide.  Just  as  we  make  use  of  our  eyes  ; 
not  persuading  them  to  show  us  one  object  rather 
than  another,  but  receiving  such  as  they  present  to 
us.  But  now  we  conduct  the  augury  with  fear  and 
trembling ;  and  in  our  invocations  to  God,  entreat 
him :  "  Lord  have. mercy  upon  me,  suffer  me  to  come 
off  safe."  Foolish  man  !  would  you  have  anything 
then  but  what  is  best  ?  And  what  is  best  but  what 
pleases  God  ?  Why  would  you  then,  so  far  as  in  you 
lies,  corrupt  your  judge  and  seduce  your  adviser  ? 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

WHEREIN  CONSISTS  THE  ESSENCE  OF  GOOD. 

GOD  is  beneficial.  Good  is  also  beneficial.  It 
should  seem,  then,  that  where  the  essence  of 
God  is,  there  too  is  the  essence  of  good.  What  then 
is  the  essence  of  God  ?  Flesh  ?  By  no  means.  An  es- 
tate ?  Fame  ?  By  no  means.  Intelligence  ?  Knowl- 
edge ?  Right  reason  ?  Certainly.  Here,  then,  with- 
out more  ado,  seek  the  essence  of  good.  For  do  you 
seek  that  quality  in  a  plant  ?  No.  Or  in  a  brute  ? 
No.  If,  then,  you  seek  it  only  in  a  rational  subject, 
why  do  you  seek  it  anywhere  but  in  what  distin- 
guishes that  from  things  irrational  ?  Plants  make 
no  voluntary  use  of  things  ;  and  therefore  you  do  not 
apply  the  term  of  good  to  them.  —  (rood,  then,  implies 
such  use.  And  nothing  else  ?  If  so,  you  may  say, 
that  good,  and  happiness,  and  unhappiness,  belong  to 


114  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

mere  animals.  But  this  you  do  not  say,  and  you  are 
right ;  for,  how  much  soever  they  have  the  use  of 
things,  they  have  not  the  intelligent  use ;  and  with 
good  reason ;  for  they  are  made  to  be  subservient  to 
others,  and  not  of  primary  importance.  Why  was 
an  ass  made?  Was  it  as  being  of  primary  impor- 
tance ?  No ;  but  because  we  had  need  of  a  back,  able 
to  carry  burdens.  We  had  need  too  that  he  should 
be  capable  of  locomotion ;  therefore  he  had  the  vol- 
untary use  of  things  added ;  otherwise  he  could  not 
have  moved.  But  here  his  endowments  end ;  for, 
if  an  understanding  of  that  use  had  been  likewise 
added,  he  would  not,  in  reason,  have  been  subject 
to  us,  nor  have  done  us  these  services ;  but  would 
have  been  like  and  equal  to  ourselves.  Why  will 
you  not,  therefore,  seek  the  essence  of  good  in  that 
without  which  you  cannot  say  that  there  is  good  in 
anything  ? 

What  then  ?  Are  not  all  these  likewise  the  works 
of  the  gods  ?  They  are ;  but  not  primary  existences, 
nor  parts  of  the  gods.  But  you  are  a  primary  exist- 
ence. You  are  a  distinct  portion  of  the  essence  of 
God  ;  and  contain  a  certain  part  of  him  in  yourself. 
Why  then  are  you  ignorant  of  your  noble  birth  ? 
Why  do  not  you  consider  whence  you  came?  why 
do  not  you  remember,  when  you  are  eating,  who  yo7i 
are  who  eat ;  and  whom  you  feed  ?  When  you  are 
in  the  company  of  women  ;  when  you  are  conversing ; 
when  you  are  exercising ;  when  you  are  disputing ; 
do  not  you  know,  that  it  is  the  Divine  you  feed  ;  the 
Divine  you  exercise  ?  You  carry  a  God  about  with 
you,  poor  wretch,  and  know  nothing  of  it.  Do  you 
suppose  I  mean  some  god  without  you  of  gold  or  sil- 
ver ?     It  is  within  yourself  that  you  carry  him ;  and 


THE   DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  115 

you  do  not  observe  that  you  profane  him  by  impure 
thoughts  and  unclean  actions.  If  the  mere  external 
image  of  God  were  present,  you  would  not  dare  to  act 
as  you  do  ;  and  when  God  himself  is  within  you,  and 
hears  and  sees  all,  are  not  you  ashamed  to  think  and 
act  thus ;  insensible  of  your  own  nature,  and  at  en- 
mity with  God  ? 

Why  then  are  we  afraid,  when  we  send  a  young 
man  from  the  school,  into  active  life,  that  he  should 
behave  indecently,  eat  indecently,  converse  indecently 
with  women  ;  that  he  should  either  debase  himself  by 
slovenliness,  or  clothe  himself  too  finely  ?  Knows  he 
not  the  God  within  him  ?  Knows  he  not  in  what 
company  he  goes  ?  It  is  provoking  to  hear  him  say 
[to  his  instructor],  "I  wish  to  have  you  with  me." 
Have  you  not  God  ?  Do  you  seek  any  other,  while 
you  have  him  ?  Or  will  He  tell  you  any  other  things 
than  these?  If  you  were  a  statue  of  Phidias,  as 
Zeus  or  Minerva,  you  would  remember  both  yourself 
and  the  artist ;  and,  if  you  had  any  sense,  you  would 
endeavor  to  be  in  no  way  unworthy  of  him  who  formed 
you,  nor  of  yourself ;  nor  to  appear  in  an  unbecom- 
ing manner  to  spectators.  And  are  you  now  careless 
how  you  appear,  when  you  are  the  workmanship  of 
Zeus  himself?  And  yet,  what  comparison  is  there, 
either  between  the  artists,  or  the  things  they  have 
formed  ?  What  work  of  any  artist  has  conveyed  into 
its  structure  those  very  faculties  which  are  shown  in 
shaping  it  ?  Is  it  anything  but  marble,  or  brass,  or 
gold,  or  ivory?  And  the  Minerva  of  Phidias,  when 
its  hand  is  once  extended,  and  a  Victory  placed  in  it, 
remains  in  that  attitude  forever.  But  the  works  of 
God  are  endowed  with  motion,  breath,  the  powers  of 
use  and  judgment.     Being,  then,  the  work  of  such  an 


116  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

artist,  will  you  dishonor  him,  —  especially,  when  he 
hath  not  only  formed  you,  but  given  your  guardian- 
ship to  yourself?  Will  you  not  only  be  forgetful  of 
this,  but,  moreover,  dishonor  the  trust  ?  If  God  had 
committed  some  orphan  to  your  charge,  would  you 
have  been  thus  careless  of  him  ?  He  has  delivered 
yourself  to  your  care  ;  and  says,  "  I  had  no  one  fitter 
to  be  trusted  than  you :  preserve  this  person  for  me, 
such  as  he  is  by  nature ;  modest,  faithful,  noble, 
unterrified,  dispassionate,  tranquil."  And  will  you 
not  preserve  him  ? 

But  it  will  be  said  :  "  What  need  of  this  lofty  look, 
and  dignity  of  face  ?  " 

I  answer,  that  I  have  not  yet  so  much  dignity  as 
the  case  demands.  For  I  do  not  yet  trust  to  what  I 
have  learned,  and  accepted.  I  still  fear  my  own 
weakness.  Let  me  but  take  courage  a  little,  and 
then  you  shall  see  such  a  look,  and  such  an  appear- 
ance, as  I  ought  to  have.  Then  I  will  show  you  the 
statue,  when  it  is  finished,  when  it  is  polished.  Do 
you  think  I  will  show  you  a  supercilious  counte- 
nance ?  Heaven  forbid  ?  For  Olympian  Zeus  doth 
not  haughtily  lift  his  brow ;  but  keeps  a  steady  coun- 
tenance, as  becomes  him  who  is  about  to  say, 

"  My  promise  is  irrevocable,  sure."  * 

Such  will  I  show  myself  to  you  ;  faithful,  modest, 
noble,  tranquil. 

"  What,  and  immortal  too,  and  exempt  from  age 
and  sickness  ?  " 

No.  But  sickening  and  dying  as  becomes  the 
divine  within  me.  This  is  in  my  power ;  this  I  can 
do.     The  other  is  not  in  my  power,  nor  can  I  do  it. 

*  Iliad,  I.  526.  — H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  117 

Shall  I  show  you  the  muscular  training  of  a  philos- 
opher ? 

"  What  muscles  are  those  ?  " 

A  will  undisappointed ;  evils  avoided ;  powers 
duly  exerted ;  careful  resolutions ;  unerring  decis- 
ions.    These  you  shall  see. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THAT  SOME  PERSONS,  FAILING  TO  FULFIL  WHAT  THE 
CHARACTER  OF  A  MAN  IMPLIES,  ASSUME  THAT  OF  A 
PHILOSOPHER. 

IT  were  no  slight  attainment,  could  we  merely  ful- 
fil what  the  nature  of  man  implies.  For  what  is 
man  ?  A  rational  and  mortal  being.  Well ;  from 
what  are  we  distinguished  by  reason?  From  wild 
beasts.     From  what  else  ?     From  sheep,  and  the  like. 

Take  care,  then,  to  do  nothing  like  a  wild  beast ; 
otherwise  you  have  destroyed  the  man  ;  you  have  not 
fulfilled  what  your  nature  promises.  Take  care  too, 
to  do  nothing  like  cattle  ;  for  thus  likewise  the  man 
is  destroyed. 

In  what  do  we  act  like  cattle  ? 

When  we  act  gluttonously,  lewdly,  rashly,  sordid- 
ly, inconsiderately,  into  what  are  we  sunk  ?  Into  cat- 
tle.    What  have  we  destroyed  ?     The  rational  being. 

When  we  behave  contentiously,  injuriously,  pas- 
sionately, and  violently,  into  what  have  we  sunk? 
Into  wild  beasts. 

And  further ;  some  of  us  are  wild  beasts  of  a  larger 
size ;  others,  little  mischievous  vermin  ;  such  as  sug- 
gest the  proverb,  Let  me  rather  be  eaten  by  a  lion. 


118  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

By  all  these  means,  that  is  destroyed  which  the 
nature  of  man  implies. 

For,  when  is  a  conjunctive  proposition  sustained  ? 
When  it  fulfils  what  its  nature  implies.  So  then  the 
sustaining  of  such  a  proposition  consists  in  this  :  that 
its  several  parts  remain  a  series  of  truths. 

When  is  a  disjunctive  proposition  sustained  ?  When 
it  fulfils  what  its  nature  implies. 

When  is  a  flute,  a  harp,  a  horse,  or  a  dog,  preserved 
in  existence  ?  While  each  fulfils  what  its  nature  im- 
plies. 

Where  is  the  wonder,  then,  that  manhood  should 
be  preserved  or  destroyed  in  the  same  manner  ?  All 
things  are  preserved  and  improved  by  exercising  their 
proper  functions ;  as  a  carpenter,  by  building ;  a 
grammarian,  by  grammar  :  but  if  he  permit  himself 
to  write  ungrammatically,  his  art  will  necessarily  be 
spoiled  and  destroyed.  Thus  modest  actions  preserve 
the  modest  man,  and  immodest  ones  destroy  him ; 
faithful  actions  preserve  the  faithful  man,  and  the 
contrary  destroy  him.  On  the  other  hand,  the  con- 
trary actions  heighten  the  contrary  characters.  Thus 
the  practice  of  immodesty  develops  an  immodest 
character ;  knavery,  a  knavish  one  ;  slander,  a  slan- 
derous one ;  anger,  an  angry  one ;  and  fraud,  a  cov- 
etous one. 

For  this  reason,  philosophers  advise  us  not  to  be 
contented  with  mere  learning ;  but  to  add  meditation 
likewise,  and  then  practice.  For  we  have  been  long 
accustomed  to  perverse  actions,  and  have  practised 
upon  wrong  opinions.  If,  therefore,  we  do  not  like- 
wise habituate  ourselves  to  practise  upon  right  opin- 
ions, we  shall  be  nothing  more  than  expositors  of  the 
abstract  doctrines  of  others.     For  who  among  us  is 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  119 

not  already  able  to  discourse,  according  to  the  rules 
of  art,  upon  good  and  evil  ?  "  That  some  things  are 
good,  some  evil,  and  others  indifferent :  the  good  in- 
clude the  virtues  and  all  things  appertaining ;  the 
evil  comprise  the  contrary  ;  and  the  indifferent  include 
riches,  health,  reputation  "  ;  —  and  then,  if,  while  we 
are  saying  all  this,  there  should  happen  some  more 
than  ordinary  noise,  or  one  of  the  by-standers  should 
laugh  at  us,  we  are  disconcerted.  Philosopher,  what 
is  become  of  what  you  were  saying  ?  Whence  did  it 
proceed  ?  Merely  from  your  lips  ?  Why  then,  do  you 
confound  the  remedies  which  might  be  useful  to 
others?  Why  do  you  trifle  on  the  most  important 
subjects  ?  It  is  one  thing  to  hoard  up  provision  in  a 
storehouse,  and  another  to  eat  it.  What  is  eaten 
is  assimilated,  digested,  and  becomes  nerves,  flesh, 
bones,  blood,  color,  breath.  Whatever  is  hoarded  is 
ready  indeed,  whenever  you  desire  to  show  it ;  but  is 
of  no  further  use  to  you  than  in  the  mere  knowledge 
that  you  have  it. 

For  what  difference  does  it  make  whether  you  dis- 
course on  these  doctrines,  or  those  of  the  heterodox  ? 
Sit  down  and  comment  skilfully  on  Epicurus,  for  in- 
stance ;  perhaps  you  may  comment  more  profitably 
than  himself.  Why  then  do  you  call  yourself  a  Stoic  ? 
Why  do  you  act  like  a  Jew,  when  you  are  a  Greek  ? 
Do  not  you  see  on  what  terms  each  is  called  a  Jew,  a 
Syrian,  an  Egyptian?  And  when  we  see  any  one 
wavering,  we  are  wont  to  say,  This  is  not' a  Jew,  but 
only  acts  like  one.  But,  when  he  assumes  the  senti- 
ments of  one  who  has  been  baptized  and  circumcised, 
then  he  both  really  is,  and  is  called,  a  Jew.  Thus  we, 
falsifying  our  profession,  may  be  Jews  in  name,  but  are 
in  reality  something  else.     We  are  inconsistent  with 


120  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

our  own  discourse  ;  we  are  far  from  practising  what 
we  teach,  and  what  we  pride  ourselves  on  knowing. 
Thus,  while  we  are  unable  to  fulfil  what  the  charac- 
ter of  a  man  implies,  we  are  ready  to  assume  besides 
so  vast  a  weight  as  that  of  a  philosopher.  As  if  a 
person,  incapable  of  lifting  ten  pounds,  should  en- 
deavor to  heave  the  same  stone  with  Ajax. 


CHAPTER   X. 

HOW    WE    MAT    INFER    THE     DUTIES     OF    LIFE    FROM    ITS 
NOMINAL   FUNCTIONS. 

CONSIDER  who  you  are.  In  the  first  place,  a 
man  ;  that  is,  one  who  recognizes  nothing  supe- 
rior to  the  faculty  of  free  will,  but  all  things  as 
subject  to  this ;  and  this  itself  as  not  to  be  enslaved 
or  subjected  to  anything.  Consider  then,  from  what 
you  are  distinguished  by  reason.  You  are  distin- 
guished from  wild  beasts  :  you  are  distinguished  from 
cattle.  Besides,  you  are  a  citizen  of  the  universe, 
and  a  part  of  it ;  not  a  subordinate,  but  a  principal 
part.  You  are  capable  of  comprehending  the  Divine 
economy  ;  and  of  considering  the  connections  of 
things.  What  then  does  the  character  of  a  citizen 
imply  ?  To  hold  no  private  interest ;  to  deliberate  of 
nothing  as  a  separate  individual,  but  rather  like  the 
hand  or  the  foot,  which,  if  they  had  reason,  and  com- 
prehended the  constitution  of  nature,  would  never 
pursue,  or  desire,  but  with  a  reference  to  the  whole. 
Hence  the  philosophers  rightly  say,  that,  if  it  were 
possible  for  a  wise  and  good  man  to  foresee  what  was 
to  happen,  he  might  co-operate  in  bringing  on  himself 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  121 

sickness,  and  death,  and  mutilation,  being  sensible 
that  these  things  are  appointed  in  the  order  of  the 
universe  ;  and  that  the  whole  is  superior  to  a  part, 
and  the  city  to  the  citizen.  But,  since  we  do  not 
foreknow  what  is  to  happen,  it  becomes  our  duty  to 
hold  to  what  is  more  agreeable  to  our  choice,  for  this 
too  is  a  part  of  our  birthright. 

Remember  next,  that  perhaps  you  are  a  son  ;  and 
what  does  this  character  imply  ?  To  esteem  every- 
thing that  is  his,  as  belonging  to  his  father ;  in  every 
instance  to  obey  him  ;  not  to  revile  him  to  any  one  ; 
not  to  say  or  do  anything  injurious  to  him ;  to  give 
way  and  yield  in  everything ;  co-operating  with  him 
to  the  utmost  of  his  power. 

After  this,  know  likewise  that  you  are  a  brother 
too ;  and  that  to  this  character  it  belongs,  to  make 
concessions  ;  to  be  easily  persuaded  ;  to  use  gentle 
language  ;  never  to  claim,  for  yourself,  any  non- 
essential thing ;  but  cheerfully  to  give  up  these,  to 
be  repaid  by  a  larger  share  of  things  essential.  For 
consider  what  it  is,  instead  of  a  lettuce,  for  instance, 
or  a  chair,  to  procure  for  yourself  a  good  temper. 
How  great  an  advantage  gained  ! 

If,  beside  this,  you  are  a  senator  of  any  city,  de- 
mean yourself  as  a  senator  ;  if  a  youth,  as  a  youth ; 
if  an  old  man,  as  an  old  man.  For  each  of  these 
names,  if  it  comes  to  be  considered,  always  points 
out  the  proper  duties.  But,  if  you  go  and  revile  your 
brother,  I  tell  you  that  you  have  forgotten  who  you 
are,  and  what  is  your  name.  If  you  were  a  smith, 
and  made  an  ill  use  of  the  hammer,  you  would  have 
forgotten  the  smith  ;  and  if  you  have  forgotten  the 
brother,  and  are  become,  instead  of  a  brother,  an 
enemy,  do  you  imagine  you  have  made  no  change  of 


122  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

one  thing  for  another,  in  that  case  ?  If,  instead  of  a 
man,  a  gentle,  social  creature,  you  have  become  a 
wild  beast,  mischievous,  insidious,  biting ;  have  you 
lost  nothing  ?  Is  it  only  the  loss  of  money  which  is 
reckoned  damage  ;  and  is  there  no  other  thing,  the 
loss  of  which  damages  a  man  ?  If  you  were  to  part 
with  your  skill  in  grammar,  or  in  music,  would  you 
think  the  loss  of  these  a  damage ;  and  yet,  if  you  part 
with  honor,  decency,  .and  gentleness,  do  you  think 
that  no  matter  ?  Yet  the  first  may  be  lost  by  some 
cause  external  and  inevitable ;  but  the  last  only  by 
our  own  fault.  There  is  no  shame  in  not  having,  or 
in  losing  the  one ;  but  either  not  to  have,  or  to  lose 
the  other,  is  equally  shameful,  and  reproachful,  and 
unhappy.  What  does  the  debauchee  lose?  Man- 
hood. What  does  he  lose,  who  made  him  such  ? 
Many  things,  but  manhood  also.  What  does  an 
adulterer  lose  ?  The  modest,  the  chaste  character ; 
the  good  neighbor.  What  does  an.  angry  person  lose  ? 
A  coward  ?  Each  loses  his  portion.  No  one  is  wicked 
without  some  loss,  or  damage.  Now  if,  after  all,  you 
treat  the  loss  of  money  as  the  only  damage,  all  these 
are  unhurt  and  uninjured.  Nay,  they  may  be  even 
gainers ;  as,  by  such  practices,  their  money  may  pos- 
sibly be  increased.  But  consider ;  if  you  refer  every- 
thing to  money,  then  a  man  who  loses  his  nose  is 
not  hurt.  Yes,  say  you  ;  he  is  maimed  in  his  body. 
Well,  but  does  he  who  loses  his  sense  of  smell  itself 
lose  nothing  ?  Is  there,  then,  no  faculty  of  the  soul, 
which  benefits  the  possessor,  and  which  it  is  an  injury 
to  lose  ? 

"  Of  what  sort  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Have  we  not  a  natural  sense  of  honor  ? 

"  We  have." 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  123 

Does  he,  who  loses  this,  suffer  no  damage  ?  Is  he 
deprived  of  nothing  ?  Does  he  part  with  nothing 
that  belongs  to  him  ?  Have  we  no  natural  fidelity  ? 
No  natural  affection  ?  No  natural  disposition  to  mu- 
tual usefulness,  to  mutual  forbearance  ?  Is  he,  then, 
who  carelessly  suffers  himself  to  be  damaged  in  these 
respects,  still  safe  and  uninjured  ? 

"  What,  then,  shall  not  I  injure  him  who  has  in- 
jured me?" 

Consider  first  what  injury  is  ;  and  remember  what 
you  have  heard  from  the  philosophers.  For,  if  both 
good  and  evil  lie  in  the  will,  see  whether  what  you 
say  does  not  amount  to  this :  "  Since  he  has  hurt 
himself,  by  injuring  me,  shall  I  not  hurt  myself  by 
injuring  him  ?  "  Why  do  we  not  make  to  ourselves 
some  such  representation  as  this?  Are  we  hurt, 
when  any  detriment  happens  to  our  bodily  posses- 
sions ;  and  are  we  not  at  all  hurt,  when  our  will  is  de- 
praved ?  He  who  has  erred,  or  injured  another,  has 
indeed  no  pain  in  his  head ;  nor  loses  an  eye,  nor  a  leg, 
nor  an  estate  ;  and  we  wish  for  nothing  beyond  these. 
Whether  our  will  be  habitually  humble  and  faithful, 
or  shameless  and  unfaithful,  we  regard  as  a  thing  in- 
different, except  only  in  the  discussions  of  the  schools. 
In  that  case,  all  the  improvement  we  make  reaches 
only  to  words  ;  and  beyond  them  is  absolutely  noth- 
ing. 


124  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XL 

THE   BEGINNING   OP  PHILOSOPHY. 

THE  beginning  of  philosophy,  at  least  to  such  as 
enter  upon  it  in  a  proper  way,  and  by  the  door, 
is  a  consciousness  of  our  own  weakness  and  inability 
in  necessary  things.  For  we  came  into  the  world 
without  any  natural  idea  of  a  right-angled  triangle  ; 
of  a  diesis,  or  a  semitone,  in  music ;  but  we  learn 
each  of  these  things  by  some  artistic  instruction. 
Hence,  they  who  do  not  understand  them,  do  not  as- 
sume to  understand  them.  But  who  ever  came  into 
the  world  without  an  innate  idea  of  good  and  evil ; 
fair  and  base  ;  becoming  and  unbecoming ;  happiness 
and  misery ;  proper  and  improper ;  what  ought  to  be 
done,  and  what  not  to  be  done  ?  Hence  we  all  make 
use  of  the  terms,  and  endeavor  to  apply  our  impres- 
sions to  particular  cases.  "  Such  a  one  hath  acted 
well,  not  well ;  right,  not  right ;  is  unhappy,  is  hap- 
py ;  is  just,  is  unjust."  Which  of  us  refrains  from 
these  terms  ?  Who  defers  the  use  of  them,  till  he 
has  learnt  it ;  as  those  do,  who  are  ignorant  of  lines 
and  sounds  ?  The  reason  of  this  is,  that  we  come  in- 
structed, in  some  degree,  by  nature,  upon  these  sub-, 
jects  ;  and  from  this  beginning,  we  go  on  to  add  self- 
conceit.  "  For  why,"  say  you,  "  should  I  not  know 
what  fair  or  base  is  ?  Have  I  not  the  idea  of  it  ?  " 
You  have.  "  Do  I  not  apply  this  idea  to  the  partic- 
ular instance  ?  "  You  do.  "  Do  I  not  apply  it  rightly 
then  ?  "  Here  lies  the  whole  question  ;  and  here 
arises  the  self-conceit.  Beginning  from  these  ac- 
knowledged points,  men  proceed,  by  applying  them 


THE   DISCOUKSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  125 


I 


improperly,  to  reach  the  very  position  most  question- 
able. For,  if  they  knew  how  to  apply  them  also,  they 
would  be  all  but  perfect. 

If  you  think  that  you  know  how  to  apply  your 
general  principles  to  particular  cases,  tell  me  on  what 
you  base  this  application. 

"  Upon  its  seeming  so  to  me." 

But  it  does  not  seem  so  to  another  ;  and  does  not 
he  too  think  that  he  makes  a  right  application  ? 

"  He  does." 

Is  it  possible,  then,  that  each  of  you  should  rightly 
apply  your  principles,  on  the  very  subjects  about 
which  your  opinions  conflict? 

"  It  is  not." 

Have  you  anything  to  show  us,  then,  for  this  ap- 
plication, beyond  the  fact  of  its  seeming  so  to  you  ? 
And  does  a  madman  act  any  otherwise  than  seems  to 
him  right  ?  Is  this  then  a  sufficient  criterion  for  him 
too? 

"  It  is  not." 

Come,  therefore,  to  some  stronger  ground  than 
seeming. 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

The  beginning  of  philosophy  is  this ;  the  being 
sensible  of  the  disagreement  of  men  with  each  other ; 
an  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  this  disagreement ;  and 
a  disapprobation,  and  distrust  of  what  merely  seems  ; 
a  careful  examination  into  what  seems,  whether  it 
seem  rightly  ;  and  the  discovery  of  some  rule  which 
shall  serve  like  a  balance,  for  the  determination  of 
weights  ;  like  a  square,  for  distinguishing  straight 
and  crooked.     This  is  the  beginning  of  philosophy. 

Is  it  possible  that  all  things  which  seem  right  to  all 
persons,  are  so  ?     Can  things  contradictory  be  right  ? 


126  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

We  say  not  all  things  ;  but  all  that  seem  so  to  us. 
And  why  more  to  you  than  to  the  Syrians,  or  Egyp- 
tians ?  Than  to  me,  or  to  any  other  man  ?  Not  at 
all  more. 

Therefore  what  seems  to  each  man,  is  not  sufficient 
to  determine  the  reality  of  a  thing.  For  even  in 
weights  and  measures  we  are  not  satisfied  with  the 
bare  appearance ;  but  for  everything  we  find  some 
rule.  And  is  there  then,  in  the  present  case,  no  rule 
preferable  to  what  seems  ?  Is  it  possible,  that  what 
is  of  the  greatest  necessity  in  human  life,  should  be 
left  incapable  of  determination  and  discovery  ? 

There  must  be  some  rule.  And  why  do  we  not 
seek  and  discover  it,  and,  when  we  have  discovered, 
ever  after  make  use  of  it,  without  fail,  so  as  not  even 
to  move  a  finger  without  it.  For  this,  I  conceive,  is 
what,  when  found,  will  cure  those  of  their  madness, 
who  make  use  of  no  other  measure,  but  their  own 
perverted  way  of  thinking.  Afterwards,  beginning 
from  certain  known  and  determinate  points,  we  may 
make  use  of  general  principles,  properly  applied  to 
particulars.     • 

Thus,  what  is  the  subject  that  falls  under  our  in- 
quiry ?  Pleasure.  Bring  it  to  the  rule.  Throw  it 
into  the  scale.  Must  good  be  something  in  which  it 
is  fit  to  confide,  and  to  which  we  may  trust  ?  Yes. 
Is  it  fit  to  trust  to  anything  unstable  ?  No.  Is  pleas- 
ure, then,  a  stable  thing  ?  No.  Take  it,  then,  and 
throw  it  out  of  the  scale,  and  drive  it  far  distant  from 
the  place  of  good  things. 

But,  if  you  are  not  quick-sighted,  and  one  balance 
is  insufficient,  bring  another.  Is  it  fit  to  be  elated 
by  good  ?  Yes.  Is  it  fit,  then,  to  be  elated  by  a 
present  pleasure  ?     See  that  you  do  not  say  it  is ; 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  127 

otherwise  I  shall  not  think  you  so  much  as  worthy 
to  use  a  scale.  Thus  are  things  judged,  and  weighed, 
when  we  have  the  rules  ready.  This  is  the  part  of 
philosophy,  to  examine,  and  fix  the  rules ;  and  to 
make  use  of  them,  when  they  are  known,  is  the  busi- 
ness of  a  wise  and  good  man. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

OP   DISPUTATION. 

WHAT  things  are  to  he  learned,  in  order  to  the 
right  use  of  reason,  the  philosophers  of  our 
sect  have  accurately  taught ;  but  we  are  altogether 
unpractised  in  the  due  application  of  them.  Only 
give  to  any  one  of  us  whom  you  will,  some  illiterate 
person  for  an  antagonist,  and  he  will  not  find  out  how 
to  treat  him.  But  when  he  has  a  little  moved  the 
man,  if  he  happens  to  answer  at  cross  purposes,  the 
questioner  knows  not  how  to  deal  with  him  any  fur- 
ther, but  either  reviles  or  laughs  at  him,  and  says : 
"  He  is  an  illiterate  fellow  ;  there  is  no  making  any- 
thing of  him."  Yet  a  guide,  when  he  perceives  his 
charge  going  out  of  the  way,  does  not  revile  and  ridi- 
cule, and  then  leave  him  ;  but  leads  him  into  the 
right  path.  Do  you  also  show  your  antagonist  the 
truth,  and  you  will  see  that  he  will  follow.  But  till 
you  show  it,  do  not  ridicule  him  ;  but  rather  be  sen- 
sible of  your  own  incapacity. 

How,  then,  did  Socrates  use  to  act  ?  He  obliged 
his  antagonist  himself  to  bear  testimony  to  him  ;  and 
wanted  no  other  witness.    Hence  he  might  well  say  :  * 

*  Plato,  Gorgias,  §  69,  and  elsewhere.  —  H. 


128  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

"  I  give  up  all  the  rest,  and  am  always  satisfied  with 
the  testimony  of  my  opponent ;  and  I  call  in  no  one 
to  vote,  but  my  antagonist  alone."  For  he  rendered 
the  arguments  drawn  from  natural  impressions  so 
clear,  that  every  one  saw  and  avoided  the  contradic- 
tion. —  "  Does  an  envious  man  rejoice  XV  —  "  By  no 
means  ;  he  rather  grieves. "  (This  he  moves  him  to 
say,  by  proposing  the  contrary.) — "Well;  and  do 
you  think  envy  to  be  a  grief  caused  by  evils  ?  "  — 
"  And  who  ever  envied  evils  ?  n  —  (Therefore  he 
makes  the  other  say,  that  envy  is  a  grief  caused  by 
things  good.) — "Does  any  one  envy  those  things 
which  are  nothing  to  him  ?  "  —  "  No,  surely."  Hav- 
ing thus  fully  drawn  out  his  idea,  he  then  leaves  that 
point ;  not  saying,  "  Define  to  me  what  envy  is  "  ; 
and  after  he  has  defined  it,  "You  have  defined  it 
wrong  ;  for  the  definition  does  not  correspond  to  the 
thing  defined." 

There  are  phrases  repulsive  and  obscure  to  the 
illiterate,  which  yet  we  cannot  dispense  with.  But 
we  have  no  capacity  at  all  to  move  them,  by  such  ar- 
guments as  might  lead  them,  in  following  the  meth- 
ods of  their  own  minds,  to  admit  or  abandon  any  po- 
sition. And,  from  a  consciousness  of  this  incapacity, 
those  among  us,  who  have  any  modesty,  give  the 
matter  entirely  up ;  but  the  greater  part,  rashly  en- 
tering upon  these  debates,  mutually  confound  and 
are  confounded  ;  and,  at  last,  reviling  and  reviled, 
walk  off.  Whereas  it  was  the  principal  and  most 
peculiar  characteristic  of  Socrates,  never  to  be  pro- 
voked in  a  dispute,  nor  to  throw  out  any  reviling  or 
injurious  expression  ;  but  to  bear  patiently  with  those 
who  reviled  him,  and  thus  put  an  end  to  the  contro- 
versy.   If  you  would  know  how  great  abilities  he  had 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  129 

in  this  particular,  read  Xenophon's  Banquet,  and  you 
will  see  how  many  controversies  he  ended.  Hence, 
even  among  the  poets,  this  is  justly  mentioned  with 
the  highest  commendation, 

"  Wisely  at  once  the  greatest  strife  to  still."  * 

But  what  then  ?  This  is  no  very  safe  affair  now,  and 
especially  at  Rome.  For  he  who  does  it,  must  not 
do  it  in  a  corner  ;  but  go  to  some  rich  consular  sen- 
ator, for  instance,  and  question  him.  Pray,  sir,  can 
you  tell  me  to  whom  you  intrust  your  horses  ?  "  Yes, 
certainly."  Is  it  then,  to  any  one  indifferently,  though 
he  be  ignorant  of  horsemanship  ?  "  By  no  means." 
To  whom  do  you  intrust  your  gold,  or  your  silver, 
or  your  clothes  ?  "  Not  to  any  one  indifferently." 
And  did  you  ever  consider  to  whom  you  committed 
the  care  of  your  body  ?  "  Yes,  surely."  To  one 
skilled  in  exercise,  or  medicine,  I  suppose.  "  With- 
out doubt."  Are  these  things  your  chief  good  ;  or 
are  you  possessed  of  something  better  than  all  of 
them  ?  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Something  which 
makes  use  of  these  ;  and  deliberates  and  counsels 
about  each  of  them  ?  "  What  then,  do  you  mean  the 
soul  ?  "  You  have  guessed  rightly  ;  for  indeed  I  do 
mean  that.  "  I  do  really  think  it  a  much  better  pos- 
session than  all  the  rest."  Can  you  show  us,  then, 
in  what  manner  you  have  taken  care  of  this  soul  ? 
For  it  is  not  probable,  that  a  person  of  your  wisdom 
and  approved  character  in  the  state,  would  carelessly 
suffer  the  most  excellent  thing  that  belongs  to  you  to 
be  neglected  and  lost.  "No,  certainly."  But  do  you 
take  care  of  it  yourself  ?  And  is  it  done  by  the  in- 
structions of  another,  or  by  your  own  abilitv  ?  — Here, 

*  Hesiod,  Theogony,  87.  —  H. 


130  THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

now,  comes  the  danger,  that  he  may  first  say,  "  Pray, 
good  sir,  what  business  is  Jhat  of  yours ;  what  are 
you  to  me  ?  "  Then,  if  you  persist  in  troubling  him, 
he  may  lift  up  his  hand,  and  give  you  a  box  on  the 
ear.  I  myself  was  once  a  great  admirer  of  this 
method  of  instruction,  till  I  fell  into  such  kind  of 
adventures. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

OF  ANXIETY. 

WHEN  I  see  any  one  anxious,  I  say,  what  does 
this  man  mean  ?  Unless  he  wanted  some- 
thing or  other,  not  in  his  own  power,  how  could  he 
still  be  anxious  ?  A  musician,  for  instance,  feels  no 
anxiety,  while  he  is  singing  by  himself,  but  when  he 
appears  upon  the  stage  he  does  ;  even  if  his  voice  be 
ever  so  good,  or  he  plays  ever  so  well.  For  what  he 
wishes  is  not  only  to  sing  well,  but  likewise  to  gain 
applause.  But  this  is  not  in  his  own  power.  In 
short,  where  his  skill  lies,  there  is  his  courage. 
Bring  any  ignorant  person,  and  he  does  not  mind 
him.  But  in  the  point  which  he  neither  under 
stands,  nor  has  studied,  there  he  is  anxious. 

"What  point  is  that?" 

He  does  not  understand  what  a  multitude  is,  nor 
what  the  applause  of  a  multitude.  He  has  learnt,  in- 
deed, how  to  sound  bass  and  treble;  but  what  the 
applause  of  the  many  is,  and  what  force  it  has  in 
life,  he  neither  understands,  nor  has  studied.  Hence 
he  must  necessarily  tremble,  and  turn  pale.  I  can- 
not indeed  say,  that  a  man  ,is  no  musician,  when  I 
see  him  afraid  ;  but  I  can  say  something  else,  and 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  131 

indeed  many  things.  And,  first  of  all,  I  call  him  a 
stranger,  and  say,  this  man  does  not  know  in  what 
country  he  is  ;  and  though  he  has  lived  here  so  long, 
he  is  ignorant  of  the  laws  and  customs  of  the  state, 
and  what  is  permitted,  and  what  not ;  nor  hath  he 
ever  consulted  any  legal  adviser,  who  might  tell  and 
explain  to  him  the  laws.  But  no  man  writes  a  will, 
without  knowing  how  it  ought  to  be  written,  or  con- 
sulting some  one  who  knows ;  nor  does  he  rashly 
sign  a  bond,  or  give  security.  Yet  he  indulges  his 
desires  and  aversions,  exerts  his  pursuits,  intentions, 
and  resolutions,  without  consulting  any  legal  adviser 
about  the  matter. 

"  How  do  you  mean,  without  a  legal  adviser  ?  " 

He  knows  not,  when  he  chooses  what  is  not  allowed 
him,  and  does  not  choose  what  is  necessary  ;  and  he 
knows  not  what  is  his  own,  and  what  belongs  to  oth- 
ers ;  for  if  he  did  know,  he  would  never  be  hindered, 
would  never  be  restrained,  would  never  be  anxious. 

"  How  so  ?  * 

Why  ?  does  any  one  fear  things  that  are  not  evils  ? 

"  No." 

Does  any  one  fear  things,  that  seem  evils  indeed, 
but  which  it  is  in  his  own  power  to  prevent  ? 

"  No,  surely." 

If,  then,  the  things  independent  of  our  will  are 
neither  good  nor  evil ;  and  all  things  that  do  depend 
on  will,  are  in  our  own  power,  and  can  neither  be 
taken  away  from  us,  nor  given  to  us,  unless  we 
please  ;  what  room  is  there  left  for  anxiety  ?  But 
we  are  anxious  about  this  paltry  body  or  estate  of 
ours,  or  about  what  Csesar  thinks  ;  and  not  at  all 
about  anything  internal.  Are  we  ever  anxious  not 
to  take  up  a  false  opinion  ?     No ;  for  this  is  within 


132  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

our  own  power.  Or  not  to  follow  any  pursuit  con- 
trary to  nature?  No;  nor  this.  When,  therefore, 
you  see  any  one  pale  with  anxiety,  just  as  the  phy- 
sician pronounces  from  the  complexion,  that  such 
a  patient  is  disordered  in  the  spleen,  and  another  in 
the  liver ;  so  do  you  likewise  say,  this  man  is  disor- 
dered in  his  desires  and  aversions ;  he  cannot  walk 
steadily ;  he  is  in  a  fever.  For  nothing  else  changes 
the  complexion,  or  causes  trembling,  or  sets  the  teeth 
chattering. 

"  He  crouching  walks,  or  squats  upon  his  heels."  * 

Therefore  Zeno,f  when  he  was  to  meet  Antigonus, 
felt  no  anxiety.  For  over  that  which  he  prized,  An- 
tigonus had  no  power :  and  those  things  over  which 
he  had  power,  Zeno  did  not  regard.  But  Antigonus 
felt  anxiety  when  he  was  to  meet  Zeno ;  and  with 
reason,  for  he  was  desirous  to  please  him ;  and  this 
was  external  ambition.  But  Zeno  was  not  solicitous 
to  please  Antigonus ;  for  no  one  skilful  in  any  art  is 
solicitous  to  please  a  person  unskilful. 

"  I  am  solicitous  to  please  you." 

For  what  ?  Do  you  know  the  rules,  by  which  one 
man  judges  of  another  ?  Have  you  studied  to  under- 
stand what  a  good,  and  what  a  bad  man  is ;  and  how 
each  becomes  such  ?  Why  then  are  not  you  yourself 
a  good  man  ? 

"  In  what  respect  am  I  not  ?  " 

♦Homer,  Iliad,  xiii.  281.  —  H. 

t  Antigonus  Gonatas,  king  of  Macedon,  had  so  great  an  esteem  for 
Zeno,  that  he  often  took  a  journey  to  Athens  to  visit  him ;  and  en- 
deavored, by  magnificent  promises,  to  allure  him  to  his  court,  but 
without  success.  He  gave  it  as  a  reason  for  the  distinguished  regard 
which  he  paid  him,  that,  though  he  had  made  him  many,  and  very 
considerable  offers,  Zeno  never  appeared  either  mean  or  insolent.  —  G. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  133 

Because  no  good  man  laments,  or  sighs,  or  groans ; 
no  good  man  turns  pale,  and  trembles,  and  says, 
"  How  will  such  a  one  receive  me  ;  how  will  he  hear 
me?" — As  he  thinks  fit,  foolish  man.  Why  do 
you  trouble  yourself  about  what  belongs  to  others  ? 
Is  it  not  his  fault,  if  he  receives  you  ill  ? 

"  Yes,  surely." 

And  can  one  person  be  in  fault,  and  another  the 
sufferer  ? 

"  No." 

Why  then  are  you  anxious  about  what  belongs  to 
others  ? 

"  Well ;  but  I  am  anxious  how  I  shall  speak  to 
him." 

What  then,  cannot  you  speak  to  him  as  you  will  ? 

"  But  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  disconcerted." 
If  you  were  going  to  write  down  the  name  of 
Dion,  should  you  be  afraid  of  being  disconcerted  ? 

"  By  no  means." 

What  is  the  reason?  Is  it  because  you  have 
learned  how  to  write  ? 

"  Yes." 

And  if  you  were  going  to  read,  would  it  not  be  ex- 
actly the  same  ? 

"  Exactly." 

What  is  the  reason  ? 

"  Because  every  art  gives  a  certain  assurance  and 
confidence,  on  its  own  ground. 

Have  you  not  learned,  then,  how  to  speak  ?  And 
what  else  did  you  study  at  school  ? 

"  Syllogisms,  and  convertible  propositions." 

For  what  purpose?  Was  it  not  in  order  to  talk 
properly  ?  And  what  is  that,  but  to  talk  seasonably, 
and  discreetly,  and  intelligently,  and  without  flutter 


134  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

or  hesitation ;  •  and  by  means  of  all  this,  with  cour- 
age? 

"  Very  true." 

When,  therefore,  you  go  into  the  field  on  horse- 
back, are  you  anxious  on  being  matched  against  one 
who  is  on  foot  ?  you  being  practised  and  he  unprac- 
tised ? 

"  Ay,  but  the  person  has  power  to  kill  me." 

Then  speak  the  truth,  0 !  unfortunate  !  and  be 
not  arrogant,  nor  take  the  philosopher  upon  you,  nor 
conceal  from  yourself  who  are  your  masters ;  but 
while  you  are  thus  to  be  held  by  the  body,  follow  the 
strongest.  Socrates,  indeed,  had  studied  how  to 
speak,  who  talked  in  such  a  manner  to  tyrants  and 
judges,  and  in  prison.  Diogenes  *  had  studied  how 
to  speak,  who  talked  in  such  a  manner  to  Alexander, 
to  Philip,  to  the  pirates,  to  the  person  who  bought 
him.  This  belonged  to  those  who  had  studied  the 
matter ;  who  had  courage.  But  do  you  go  where 
you  belong  and  remain  there.  Retire  into  some  cor- 
ner, and  there  sit  and  weave  syllogisms,  and  propose 
them  to  others.  For  there  is  not  in  you  a  man  who 
can  rule  the  city. 

*  When  Diogenes  was  sailing  to  JEgina,  he  was  taken  by  pirates, 
and  carried  to  Crete,  and  there  exposed  to  sale.  Being  asked  what 
he  could  do,  he  answered,  "  Govern  men  " ;  and  pointing  to  a  well- 
dressed  Corinthian,  who  was  passing  by,  "  Sell  me,"  said  he,  "  to 
him;  for  he  wants  a  master."  The  Corinthian,  whose  name  was 
Xeniades,  bought  him,  and  appointed  him  the  tutor  to  his  children ; 
and  Diogenes  perfectly  well  discharged  his  trust.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  135 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

CONCERNING  NASO. 

WHEN  a  certain  Roman  came  to  him  with  his 
son,  and  had  heard  one  lesson,  —  "  This,"  said 
Epictetus,  "  is  the  method  of  teaching  "  ;  and  ceased. 
When  the  other  desired  him  to  go  on,  he  answered, 
Every  art  seems  tedious,  when  it  is  delivered  to  a  per- 
son ignorant  and  unskilful  in  it.  The  things  per- 
formed by  the  common  arts,  quickly  manifest  the  use 
for  which  they  were  made ;  and  most  of  them  have 
something  attractive  and  agreeable.  Thus  the  trade 
of  a  shoemaker,  as  one  seeks  to  learn  it,  is  an  unpleas- 
ant thing ;  but  the  shoe  is  useful,  and  not  unpleasing 
to  the  eye.  The  trade  of  a  smith  is  extremely  un- 
attractive to  an  ignorant  observer,  but  the  work  shows 
the  usefulness  of  the  art.  You  will  see  this  much 
more  strongly  in  music  ;  for  if  you  stand  by,  while  a 
person  is  learning,  it  will  appear  to  you  of  all  sciences 
the  most  unpleasant ;  but  the  effects  are  agreeable  and 
delightful,  even  to  those  who  do  not  understand  it. 

So  here  we  take  it  to  be  the  work  of  one  who  stud- 
ies philosophy,  to  bring  his  will  into  harmony  with 
events  ;  so  that  none  of  the  things  which  happen  may 
happen  against  our  inclination,  nor  those  which  do 
not  happen  be  desired  by  us.  Hence  they,  who  have 
settled  this  point,  have  it  in  their  power  never  to  be 
disappointed  in  what  they  seek,  nor  to  incur  what 
they  shun  ;  but  to  lead  their  own  lives  without  sor- 
row, fear,  or  perturbation ;  and  in  society  to  preserve 
all  the  natural  or  acquired  relations  of  son,  father, 
brother,  citizen,  husband,  wife,  neighbor,  fellow-trav- 


136  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

eller,  ruler,  or  subject.  Something  like  this  is  what 
we  take  to  be  the  work  of  a  philosopher.  It  remains 
to  inquire,  how  it  is  to  be  effected.  Now  we  see  that 
a  carpenter  becomes  a  carpenter  by  learning  certain 
things ;  and  a  pilot,  by  learning  certain  things,  be- 
comes a  pilot.  Probably  then  it  is  not  sufficient,  in 
the  present  case,  merely  to  be  willing  to  be  wise  and 
good  ;  but  it  is  moreover  necessary  that  certain  things 
should  be  learned.  What  these  things  are,  is  the  ques- 
tion. The  philosophers  say,  that  we  are  first  to  learn 
that  there  is  a  God ;  and  that  his  providence  directs 
the  whole  ;  and  that  it  is  not  merely  impossible  to 
conceal  from  him  our  actions,  but  even  our  thoughts 
and  emotions.  We  are  next  to  learn,  what  the  gods 
are ;  for  such  as  they  are  found  to  be,  such  must  he 
seek  to  be  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  who  would 
please  and  obey  them.  If  the  Deity  is  faithful,  he 
too  must  be  faithful :  if  free,  beneficent,  and  noble, 
he  must  be  free,  beneficent,  and  noble  likewise ;  in 
all  his  words  and  actions,  behaving  as  an  imitator 
of  God. 

"  Whence,  then,  are  we  to  begin  ?  " 

If  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will  tell  you.  It  is 
necessary,  in  the  first  place,  that  you  should  under- 
stand words. 

"  So  then  !     I  do  not  understand  them  now  ?  " 

No.     You  do  not. 

"  How  is  it,  then,  that  I  use  them  ?  " 

Just  as  the  illiterate  use  the  words  of  the  learned  ; 
and  as  brutes  use  the  phenomena  of  nature.  For  use 
is  one  thing,  and  understanding  another.  But  if  you 
think  you  understand  them,  bring  whatever  words 
you  please,  and  let  us  see  whether  we  understand 
them  or  not. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  137 

"  Well ;  but  it  is  a  grievous  thing  for  a  man  to  be 
confuted  who  has  grown  old ;  and  has  perhaps  served 
through  his  three  campaigns  to  a  senator  ship." 

I  know  it  very  well.  For  you  now  come  to  me,  as 
if  you  wanted  nothing.  And  how  can  it  enter  into 
your  imagination,  that  there  should  be  anything  in 
which  you  are  deficient  ?  You  are  rich ;  and  perhaps 
have  a  wife  and  children,  and  a  great  number  of  do- 
mestics. Caesar  takes  notice  of  you  :  you  have  many 
friends  at  Rome  :  you  render  to  all  their  dues  :  you 
know  how  to  requite  a  favor,  and  revenge  an  in- 
jury. In  what  are  you  deficient  ?  Suppose  then,  I 
should  prove  to  you,  that  you  are  deficient  in  what 
is  most  necessary  and  important  to  happiness  ;  and 
that  hitherto  you  have  taken  care  of  everything, 
rather  than  your  duty ;  and,  to  complete  all,  that 
you  understand  not  what  God  or  man,  or  good  or 
evil,  means  ?  That  you  are  ignorant  of  all  the  rest, 
perhaps,  you  may  bear  to  be  told  ;  but  if  I  prove  to 
you  that  you  are  ignorant  even  of  yourself,  how  will 
you  bear  with  me,  and  how  will  you  have  patience  to 
stay  and  be  convinced  ?  Not  at  all.  You  will  imme- 
diately be  offended,  and  go  away.  And  yet  what  in- 
jury have  I  done  you  ;  unless  a  looking-glass  injures 
a  person  not  handsome,  when  it  shows  him  to  him- 
self, such  as  he  is  ?  Or  unless  a  physician  can  be 
thought  to  affront  his  patient,  when  he  says  to  him : 
"  Do  you  think,  sir,  that  you  are  not  ill  ?  You  have 
a  fever.  Eat  no  meat  to-day,  and  drink  water."  No- 
body cries  out  here,  "  What  an  intolerable  affront !  " 
But,  if  you  say  to  any  one  :  You  exhibit  feverishness 
in  your  desires,  and  low  habits  in  what  you  shun ; 
your  aims  are  contradictory,  your  pursuits  not  con- 
formable to  nature,  your  opinions  rash,  and  mistaken ; 


138  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

he  presently  goes  away,  and  complains  that  he  is 
affronted. 

This  is  the  position  we  assume.  As,  in  a  crowded 
fair,  the  horses  and  cattle  are  brought  to  be  sold,  and 
most  men  come  either  to  buy  or  sell ;  but  there  are  a 
few,  who  come  only  to  look  at  the  fair,  and  inquire 
how  it  is  carried  on,  and  why  in  that  manner,  and 
who  appointed  it,  and  for  what  purpose ;  —  thus,  in 
this  fair  [of  the  world]  some,  like  cattle,  trouble 
themselves  about  nothing  but  fodder.  To  all  of  you, 
who  busy  yourselves  about  possessions,  and  farms,  and 
domestics,  and  public  posts,  these  things  are  nothing 
else  but  mere  fodder.  But  there  are  some  few  men, 
among  the  crowd,  who  are  fond  of  looking  on,  and 
considering :  "  What  then,  after  all,  is  the  world  ? 
Who  governs  it  ?  Has  it  no  governor  ?  How  is  it 
possible,  when  neither  a  city  nor  a  house  can  remain, 
ever  so  short  a  time,  without  some  one  to  govern  and 
take  care  of  it,  that  this  vast  and  beautiful  system 
should  be  administered  in  a  fortuitous  and  disorderly 
manner  ?  Is  there  then  a  governor  ?  Of  what  sort  is 
he  ?  And  how  does  he  govern  ;  and  what  are  we,  who 
are  under  him  ?  And  for  what  designed  ?  Have  we 
some  connection  and  relation  to  him,  or  none  ?  "  In 
this  manner  are  the  few  affected;  and  apply  them- 
selves only  to  view  the  fair,  and  then  depart.  Well ; 
and  they  are  laughed  at  by  the  multitude  ?  Why,  so 
are  the  lookers-on,  by  the  buyers  and  sellers  ;  and,  if 
the  cattle  had  any  apprehension,  they  too  would  laugh 
at  such  as  admired  anything  but  fodder. 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  139 


CHAPTER    XV. 

CONCERNING  THOSE  WHO  OBSTINATELY  PERSIST  IN  "WHAT- 
EVER THEY  HAVE  DETERMINED. 

SOME,  when  they  hear  such  discourses  as  these, 
"  That  we  ought  to  be  steadfast ;  that  the  will  is 
by  nature  free  and  unconstrained  ;  and  that  all  else  is 
liable  to  restraint,  compulsion,  slavery,  and  tyranny," 
imagine  that  they  must  remain  immutably  fixed  to 
everything  which  they  have  determined.  But  it  is 
first  necessary  that  the  determination  should  be  a 
wise  one.  I  agree,  that  there  should  be  sinews  in  the 
body,  but  such  as  in  a  healthy,  an  athletic  body ;  for 
if  you  show  me  that  you  exhibit  the  [convulsed]  sin- 
ews of  a  lunatic,  and  value  yourself  upon  thatj  I  will 
say  to  you,  Seek  a  physician,  man ;  this  is  not  mus- 
cular vigor,  but  is  really  enervation.  Such  is  the 
distemper  of  mind  in  those  who  hear  these  discourses 
in  a  wrong  manner ;  like  an  acquaintance  of  mine, 
who,  for  no  reason,  had  determined  to  starve  himself 
to  death.  I  went  the  third  day,  and  inquired  what 
was  the  matter.  He  answered,  "  I  am  determined." 
—  Well ;  but  what  is  your  motive  ?  For,  if  your  de- 
termination be  right,  we  will  stay,  and  assist  your 
departure  ;  but,  if  unreasonable,  change  it.  —  "  We 
ought  to  keep  our  determinations." — What  do  you 
mean,  sir  ?  Not  all  of  them ;  but  such  as  are  right. 
Else,  if  you  should  fancy  that  it  is  night,  if  this  be 
your  principle,  do  not  change,  but  persist,  and  say, 
"  We  ought  to  keep  to  our  determinations."  What 
do  you  mean,  sir  ?  Not  to  all  of  them.  Why  do 
you  not  begin  by  first  laying  the  foundation,  inquir- 


140  THE  DISCOUESES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

ing  whether  your  determination  be  a  sound  one,  or 
not ;  and  then  build  your  firmness  and  constancy 
upon  it.  For,  if  you  lay  a  rotten  and  crazy  founda- 
tion, you  must  not  build ;  since  the  greater  and  more 
weighty  the  superstructure,  the  sooner  will  it  fall. 
Without  any  reason,  you  are  withdrawing  from  us, 
out  of  life,  a  friend,  a  companion,  a  fellow-citizen 
both  of  the  greater  and  the  lesser  city ;  and  while 
you  are  committing  murder,  and  destroying  an  inno- 
cent person,  you  say,  "  We  must  keep  to  our  deter- 
minations." Suppose,  by  any  means,  it  should  ever 
come  into  your  head  to  kill  me  ;  must  you  keep  such 
a  determination  ? 

With  difficulty  this  person  was,  however,  at  last 
convinced ;  but  there  are  some  at  present,  whom 
there  is  no  convincing.  So  that  now  I  think  I  un- 
derstand, what  before  I  did  not,  the  meaning  of  that 
common  saying,  that  a  fool  will  neither  bend  nor 
break.  May  it  never  fall  to  my  lot  to  have  a  wise, 
that  is  an  untractable  fool  for  my  friend.  "  It  is  all 
to  no  purpose ;  I  am  determined."  So  are  madmen 
too  ;  but  the  more  strongly  they  are  determined  upon 
absurdities,  the  more  need  have  they  of  hellebore. 
Why  will  you  not  act  like  a  sick  person,  and  apply 
yourself  to  a  physician  ?  "  Sir,  I  am  sick.  Give 
me  your  assistance  ;  consider  what  I  am  to  do.  It  is 
my  part  to  follow  your  directions."  So  say  in  the 
present  case :  "  I  know  not  what  I  ought  to  do ;  and 
I  am  come  to  learn."  —  "No;  but  talk  to  me  about 
other  things  ;  for  upon  this  I  am  determined."  What 
other  things  ?  What  is  of  greater  consequence,  than 
to  convince  you  that  it  is  not  sufficient  to  be  deter- 
mined, and  to  persist  ?  This  is  the  vigor  of  a  mad- 
man ;  not  of  one  in  health.     "  I  will  die,  if  you  com- 


THE   DISCOUESES   OF   EPICTETUS.  141 

pel  me  to  this."  Why  so,  man  ;  what  is  the  matter  ? 
"  I  am  determined."  I  have  a  lucky  escape,  that  it 
is  not  your  determination  to  kill  me.  "I  will  not  be 
bribed  [from  my  purpose."]  Why  so  ?  "I  am  de- 
termined." Be  assured,  that  with  that  very  vigor 
which  you  now  employ  to  refuse  the  bribe,  you  may 
hereafter  have  as  unreasonable  a  propensity  to  take  it ; 
and  again  to  say,  "  I  am  determined."  As,  in  a  dis- 
tempered and  rheumatic  body,  the  humor  tends  some- 
times to  one  part,  sometimes  to  another  ;  thus  it 
is  uncertain  which  way  a  sickly  mind  will  incline. 
But  if  to  its  inclination  and  bent  a  spasmodic  vigor 
be  likewise  added,  the  evil  then  becomes  desperate 
and  incurable. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THAT   WE   DO   NOT   STUDY   TO    MAKE    USE    OP   THE    ESTAB- 
LISHED   PRINCIPLES    CONCERNING    GOOD    AND    EVIL. 

WHERE  lies  good  ?  In  the  will.  Where  evil  ? 
In  the  will.  Where  neither  good  nor  evil? 
In  things  inevitable.  What  then  ?  Does  any  one  of 
us  remember  these  lessons  out  of  the  schools  ?  Does 
any  one  of  us  study  how  to  answer  for  himself  in  the 
affairs  of  life,  as  in  common  questions  ?  "  Is  it  day  ?  " 
_  «  Yes."  —  "  Is  it  night,  then  I »  — "  No.  "  —  "  Is 
the  number  of  stars  even?"  —  "I  cannot  tell."  — 
When  a  bribe  is  offered  you,  have  you  learned  to 
make  the  proper  answer,  that  it  is  not  a  good  ?  Have 
you  exercised  yourself  in  such  answers  as  these  ;  or 
only  in  sophistries  ?  Why  do  you  wonder,  then,  that 
you  improve  in  points  which  you  have  studied ;  while 


142  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

in  those  which  you  have  not  studied,  there  you  re- 
main the  same  ?  When  an  orator  knows  that  he  has 
written  well ;  that  he  has  committed,  to  memory  what 
he  has  written  ;  and  that  he  brings  an  agreeable  voice 
with  him ;  why  is  he  still  anxious  ?  Because  he  is 
not  contented  with  what  he  has  studied.  What  does 
he  want  then?  To  be  applauded  by  the  audience. 
He  has  studied  the  power  of  speaking,  then  ;  but  he 
has  not  studied  censure  and  applause.  For  when  did 
he  hear  from  any  one  what  applause,  what  censure 
is  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  each  ?  What  kind  of  ap- 
plause is  to  be  sought,  and  what  kind  of  censure  to 
be  shunned  ?  And  when  did  he  ever  apply  himself 
to  study  what  follows  from  these  lessons  ?  Why  do 
you  wonder  then,  if,  in  what  he  has  learned,  he  ex- 
cels others  ;  but,  where  he  has  not  studied,  he  is  the 
same  with  the  rest  of  the  world  ?  'Just  as  a  musician 
knows  how  to  play,  sings  well,  and  has  the  proper 
dress  of  his  profession  ;  yet  trembles  when  he  comes 
upon  the  stage.  For  the  first  he  understands ;  but 
what  the  multitude  is,  or  what  mean  the  clamor  and 
laughter  of  the  multitude,  he  does  not  understand. 
Nor  does  he  even  know  what  anxiety  itself  is ;  wheth- 
er it  be  our  own  affair,  or  that  of  others ;  or  whether 
it  be  possible  to  suppress  it,  or  not.  Hence,  if  he  is 
applauded,  he  is  puffed  up,  when  he  makes  his  exit : 
but  if  he  is  laughed  at,  the  inflation  is  punctured, 
and  subsides. 

Thus  are  we  too  affected.  What  do  we  admire  ? 
Externals.  For  what  do  we  strive  ?  Externals. 
And  are  we  then  in  any  doubt  why  we  fear  and 
are  anxious  ?  What  is  the  consequence,  then,  when 
we  esteem  the  things  that  are  brought  upon  us  to 
be  evils  ?     We  cannot  but  fear ;  we  cannot  but  be 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  143 

anxious.  And  then  we  say,  "  0  Lord  God,  how 
shall  I  avoid  anxiety ! "  Have  you  not  hands,  fool- 
ish man  ?  Hath  not  God  made  them  for  you  ? 
You  might  as  well  kneel  and  pray  to  be  cured  of 
your  catarrh.  Take  care  of  your  disease,  rather  ; 
and  do  not  murmur.  Well ;  and  hath  he  given  you 
nothing  in  the  present  case  ?  Hath  he  not  given  you 
patience  ?  Hath  he  not  given  you  magnanimity  ? 
Hath  he  not  given  you  fortitude  ?  When  you  have 
such  hands  as  these,  do  you  still  seek  for  aid  from 
another  ?  But  we  neither  study  nor  regard  these 
things.  For  give  me  but  one,  who  cares  how  he  does 
anything,  who  does  not  regard  the  success  of  any- 
thing, but  his  own  manner  of  acting.  Who,  when 
he  is  walking,  regards  his  own  action  ?  Who,  when 
he  is  deliberating,  prizes  the  deliberation  itself,  and 
not  the  success  that  is  to  follow  it  ?  If  it  happens 
to  succeed,  he  is  elated  ;  and  cries :  "  How  prudently 
have  we  deliberated !  Did  not  I  tell  you,  my  dear 
friend,  that  it  was  impossible,  when  we  considered 
about  anything,  that  it  should  not  happen  right  ?  " 
But  if  it  miscarries,  the  poor  wretch  is  dejected  ; 
and  knows  not  what  to  say  about  the  matter.  Who 
among  us  ever,  for  such  a  purpose,  consulted  a 
diviner  ?  Who  of  us  ever  slept  in  a  temple,  to  be 
instructed  [in  a  dream]  concerning  his  manner  of 
acting  ?  I  say,  who  ?  Show  me  one  who  is  truly 
noble  and  ingenuous,  that  I  may  see  what  I  have  long 
sought.    Show  me  either  a  young  or  an  old  man. 

Why  then  are  we  still  surprised,  if,  when  we  waste 
all  our  attention  on  the  mere  materials  of  action,  we 
are,  in  the  manner  of  action  itself,  low,  sordid,  un- 
worthy, timid,  wretched,  and  altogether  failures? 
For  we  do  not  care  about  these  things,  nor  make 


144  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

them  our  study.  If  we  had  feared,  not  death  or  ex- 
ile, but  fear  itself,  we  should  have  studied  not  to  fall 
into  what  appears  to  us  to  be  evil.  But,  as  the  case 
now  stands,  we  are  eager  and  loquacious  in  the 
schools ;  and,  when  any  little  question  arises  about 
any  of  these  things,  we  are  prepared  to  trace  its  con 
sequences ;  but  drag  us  into  practice,  and  you  will 
find  us  miserably  shipwrecked.  Let  something  of 
alarming  aspect  attack  us,  and  you  will  perceive 
what  we  have  been  studying,  and  in  what  we  are 
exercised.  Besides,  through  this  negligence,  we  al- 
ways exaggerate,  and  represent  things  greater  than 
the  reality.  In  a  voyage,  for  instance,  casting  my 
eyes  down  upon  the  ocean  below,  and  looking  round 
me,  and  seeing  no  land,  I  am  beside  myself,  and  im- 
agine that,  if  I  should  be  shipwrecked,  I  must  swal- 
low all  that  ocean  ;  nor  does  it  occur  to  me,  that 
three  pints  are  enough  for  me.  What  is  it  then, 
that  alarms  me  ?  The  ocean  ?  No ;  but  my  own 
impressions.  Again ;  in  an  earthquake,  I  imagine 
the  city  is  going  to  fall  upon  me ;  but  is  not  one  lit- 
tle stone  enough  to  knock  my  brains  out  ?  What  is 
it  then,  that  oppresses,  and  makes  us  beside  our- 
selves? Why,  what  else  but  our  own  impressions? 
For  what  is  it,  but  mere  impressions,  that  distress 
him,  who  leaves  his  country,  and  is  separated  from 
his  acquaintance,  and  friends,  and  place,  and  usual 
manner  of  life  ?  When  children  cry,  if  their  nurse 
happens  to  be  absent  for  a  little  while,  give  them  a 
cake,  and  they  forget  their  grief.  Shall  we  compare 
you  to  these  children  then? 

"  No,  indeed.    For  I  do  not  desire  to  be  pacified  by  a 
cake  ;  but  by  right  impressions.    And  what  are  they  ?  " 

Such  as  a  man  ought  to  study  all  day  long,  so  as 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OF  EPICTETUS.        145 

not  to  be  absorbed  in  what  does  not  belong  to  him ; 
neither  friend,  place,  nor  academy,  nor  even  his  own 
body;  but  to  remember  the  law,  and  to  have  that 
constantly  before  his  eyes.  And  what  is  the  divine 
law?  To  preserve  inviolate  what  is  properly  our 
own ;  not  to  claim  what  belongs  to  others ;  to  use 
what  is  given  us,  and  not  desire  what  is  not  given 
us ;  and,  when  anything  is  taken  away,  to  restore  it 
readily,  and  to  be  thankful  for  the  time  you  have 
been  permitted  the  use  of  it ;  and  not  cry  after  it, 
like  a  child  for  its  nurse  and  its  mamma.  For  what 
does  it  signify,  what  gets  the  better  of  you,  or  on 
what  you  depend  ?  Which  is  the  worthier,  one  cry- 
ing for  a  doll,  or  for  an  academy?  You  lament 
for  the  portico  and  the  assembly  of  young  people, 
and  such  entertainments.  Another  comes  lament- 
ing that  he  must  no  longer  drink  the  water  of 
Dirce\*  Why,  is  not  the  Marcian  water  as  good? 
"  But  I  was  used  to  that.  "  And  in  time  you  will  be 
used  to  the  other.  And,  when  you  are  attached  to 
this  too,  you  may  weep  again,  and  set  yourself,  in 
imitation  of  Euripides,  to  celebrate,  in  verse, 

The  baths  of  Nero,  and  the  Marcian  water. 

Hence  see  the  origin  of  Tragedy,  when  trifling  ac- 
cidents befall  foolish  men.  "  Ah,  when  shall  I  see 
Athens  and  the  citadel  again  ?  "  Foolish  man,  are 
not  you  contented  with  what  you  see  every  day? 
Can  you  see  anything  better  than  the  sun,  the  moon, 
the  stars,  the  whole  earth,  the  sea  ?  But  if,  besides, 
you  comprehend  him  who  administers  the  whole, 
and  carry  him  about  within  yourself,  do  you  still 

*  A  beautiful  clear  river  in  Bceotia,  flowing  into  the  Ismenus 
The  Marcian  water  was  conveyed  by  Ancus  Marcius  to  Rome. —  C. 
10 


146  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

long  after  certain  stones,  and  a  fine  rock  ?  What 
will  you  do  then,  when  you  are  to  leave  even  the 
sun  and  moon  ?  Will  you  sit  crying,  like  an  infant  ? 
What,  then,  have  you  been  doing  in  the  school  ? 
What  did  you  hear?  What  did  you  learn?  Why 
have  you  written  yourself  down  a  philosopher,  in- 
stead of  writing  the  real  fact ?  "I  have  prepared 
some  abstracts,  and  read  over  Chrysippus ;  but  I 
have  not  so  much  as  approached  the  door  of  philoso- 
phy. For  what  pretensions  have  I  in  common  with 
Socrates,  who  died  and  who  lived  in  such  a  manner  ? 
Or  with  Diogenes  ?  Do  you  observe  either  of  these 
crying,  or  out  of  humor,  that  he  is  not  to  see  such 
a  man,  or  such  a  woman ;  nor  to  live  any  longer  at 
Athens,  nor  at  Corinth ;  but  at  Susa,  for  instance,  or 
Ecbatana?  For  does  he  stay  and  repine,  who  may 
at  any  time,  if  he  will,  quit  the  entertainment,  and 
play  no  longer?  Why  does  he  not  stay,  as  chil- 
dren do,  so  long  as  he  is  amused  ?  Such  a  one,  no 
doubt,  will  bear  perpetual  banishment  and  a  sentence 
of  death  wonderfully  well !  Why  will  not  you  be 
weaned,  as  children  are ;  and  take  more  solid  food  ? 
Will  you  never  cease  to  cry  after  your  mammas  and 
nurses,  whom  the  old  women  about  you  have  taught 
you  to  bewail  ?  "  But  if  I  go  away,  I  shall  trouble 
them  also."  You  trouble  them !  No  ;  it  will  not  be 
you  ;  but  that  which  troubles  you  too,  —  a  mere  im- 
pression. What  have  you  to  do  then  ?  Rid  your- 
self of  that  impression ;  and,  if  they  are  wise,  they 
will  do  the  same  for  theirs;  or,  if  not,  they  must 
lament  for  themselves. 

Boldly  make  a  desperate  push,  man,  as  the  saying 
is,  for  prosperity,  for  freedom,  for  magnanimity.  Lift 
up  your  head  at  last,  as  being  free  from  slavery. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  147 

Dare  to  look  up  to  God,  and  say,  "  Make  use  of  me 
for  the  future  as  Thou  wilt.  I  am  of  the  same  mind  ; 
I  am  one  with  Thee.  I  refuse  nothing  which  seems 
good  to  Thee.  Lead  me  whither  Thou  wilt.  Clothe 
me  in  whatever  dress  Thou  wilt.  Is  it  Thy  will  that 
I  should  be  in  a  public  or  a  private  condition  ;  dwell 
here,  or  be  banished ;  be  poor,  or  rich  ?  Under  all 
these  circumstances  I  will  testify  unto  Thee  before 
men.  I  will  explain  the  nature  of  every  dispensa- 
tion." No?  Rather  sit  alone,  then,  in  safety,  and 
wait  till  your  mamma  comes  to  feed  you.  If  Hercules 
had  sat  loitering  at  home,  what  would  he  have  been  ? 
Eurystheus,  and  not  Hercules.  Besides,  by  travelling 
through  the  world,  how  many  acquaintances  and  how 
many  friends  he  made.  But  none  more  his  friend 
than  God  ;  for  which  reason  he  was  believed  to  be 
the  son  of  God ;  and  was  so.  In  obedience  to  him, 
he  went  about  extirpating  injustice  and  lawless  force. 
But  you  are  not  Hercules,  nor  able  to  extirpate  the 
evils  of  others  ;  nor  even  Theseus,  to  extirpate  the 
evils  of  Attica.  Extirpate  your  own  then.  Expel, 
instead  of  Procrustes  and  Sciron,*  grief,  fear,  desire, 
envy,  malevolence,  avarice,  effeminacy,  intemperance. 
But  these  can  be  no  otherwise  expelled  than  by  look- 
ing up  to  God  alone,  as  your  pattern ;  by  attaching 
yourself  to  him  alone,  and  being  consecrated  to  his 
commands.  If  you  wish  for  anything  else,  you  will, 
with  sighs  and  groans,  follow  what  is  stronger  than 
you ;  always  seeking  prosperity  without,  and  never 
able  to  find  it.  For  you  seek  it  where  it  is  not,  and 
neglect  to  seek  it  where  it  is. 

*  Two  famous  robbers  who  infested  Attica,  and  were  at  last  killed 
by  Theseus —  C. 


148  THE   DISCOURSES    OF  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

HOW   TO   APPLY   GENERAL   PRINCIPLES    TO    PARTICULAR 

CASES. 

WHAT  is  the  first  business  of  one  who  studies 
philosophy  ?  To  part  with  self-conceit.  For 
it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  begin  to  learn  what  he 
thinks  that  he  already  knows.  We  all  go  to  the  phi- 
losophers, talking  at  random  upon  negative  and  posi- 
tive duties ;  good  and  evil ;  fair  and  base.  We  praise, 
censure,  accuse  ;  we  judge  and  dispute  about  fair  and 
base  enterprises.  And  yet  for  what  do  we  go  to  the 
philosophers  ?  To  learn  what  we  suppose  ourselves 
not  to  know.  And  what  is  this  ?  Propositions.  We 
are  desirous  to  hear  what  the  philosophers  say,  for  its 
elegance  and  acuteness ;  and  some  with  a  view  only 
to  gain.  Now  it  is  ridiculous  to  suppose,  that  a  per- 
son will  learn  anything  but  what  he  desires  to  learn  ; 
or  make  an  improvement,  in  what  he  does  not  learn. 
But  most  are  deceived,  in  the  same  manner  as  Theo- 
pompus,  the  orator,  when  he  blames  Plato  for  defin- 
ing everything.  "  For,"  he  says,  "  did  none  of  us, 
before  you,  use  the  words  good  and  just ;  or  did  we 
utter  them  as  empty  sounds,  without  understanding 
what  each  of  them  meant  ?  "  Why,  who  tells  you, 
Theopompus,  that  we  had  not  natural  ideas  and  gen- 
eral principles  as  to  each  of  these  ?  But  it  is  not 
possible  to  apply  principles  in  detail,  without  having 
minutely  distinguished  them,  and  examined  what 
details  appertain  to  each.  You  may  make  the  same 
objection  to  the  physicians.  For  who  of  us  did  not 
use  the  words  wholesome  and  unwholesome,  before 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  149 

Hippocrates  was  born  ;  or  did  we  utter  them  as  empty 
sounds  ?  For  we  have  some  general  conception  of 
what  is  wholesome  too ;  but  we  cannot  apply  it. 
Hence  one  says,  let  the  patient  abstain  from  meat ; 
another,  give  it  to  him :  one  says,  let  him  be  bled  ; 
another,  cup  him.  And  what  is  the  reason,  but  not 
being  able  to  adapt  the  general  conception  of  whole- 
someness  to  particular  cases  ?  Thus,  too,  in  life  ;  who 
of  us  does  not  talk  of  good  or  evil,  advantageous  and 
disadvantageous ;  for  who  of  us  has  not  a  general 
conception  of  each  of  these  ?  But  is  it  then  a  dis- 
tinct and  perfect  one  ?     Show  me  this. 

*  How  shall  I  show  it  ?  " 

Apply  it  properly  in  detail.  Plato,  to  go  no  fur- 
ther, puts  definitions  under  the  general  head  of  use- 
ful ;  but  you,  under  that  of  useless.  Can  both  of 
you  be  right  ?  How  is  it  possible  ?  Again  ;  does  not 
one  man  adapt  the  general  conception  of  good,  to 
riches  ?  Another,  not  to  riches,  but  to  pleasure,  or 
health  ?  In  general,  unless  we  who  use  words  employ 
them  vaguely,  or  without  proper  care  in  discrimina- 
tion, why  do  we  differ  ?  Why  do  we  wrangle  ?  Why 
do  we  censure  each  other  ?  But  what  occasion  have  I 
to  mention  this  mutual  contradiction  ?  If  you  your- 
self apply  your  principles  properly,  how  comes  it  to 
pass,  that  you  do  not  prosper  ?  Why  do  you  meet 
with  any  hindrance  ?  Let  us  for  the  present  omit 
our  second  point,  concerning  the  pursuits,  and  the 
duties  relative  to  them:  let  us  omit  the  third  too, 
concerning  assent.  I  waive  all  these  for  you.  Let 
us  insist  only  on  the  first ;  *  which  affords  almost  a 
sensible  proof,  that  you  do  not  properly  apply  your 
principles.     You  desire  what  is  possible  in  itself,  and 

*  The  topic  of  the  Desires  and  Aversions.  —  C. 


150  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

possible  for  you.  Why  then  are  you  hindered  ?  Why 
are  not  you  in  a  prosperous  way  ?  You  do  not  shrink 
from  the  inevitable.  Why  then  do  you  incur  anything 
undesirable  ?  Why  are  you  unfortunate  ?  When  you 
desire  anything,  why  does  it  not  happen  ?  When  you 
do  not  desire  it,  why  happens  it  ?  For  this  is  the 
greatest  proof  of  ill  success  and  misery :  "I  desire 
something  and  it  does  not  happen  ;  and  what  is  more 
wretched  than  II  *  From  such  impatience  Medea 
came  to  murder  her  own  children ;  a  lofty  action  in 
this  point  of  view  alone,  that  she  had  a  proper  impres- 
sion of  what  it  was  to  fail  of  one's  aim.  "  Thus  I 
shall  punish  him  who  has  injured  and  dishonored 
me  ;  and  what  is  so  wicked  a  wretch  good  for  ?  But 
how  is  this  to  be  effected  ?  I  will  murder  the  chil- 
dren ;  but  that  will  be  punishing  myself.  And  what 
care  I  ?  "  This  is  the  error  of  a  powerful  soul.  For 
she  knew  not  where  the  fulfilment  of  our  desires  is  to 
be  found  ;  that  it  is  not  to  be  had  from  without,  nor  by 
altering  the  appointment  of  things.  Do  not  demand 
the  man  for  your  husband,  and  nothing  which  you 
do  desire  will  fail  to  happen.  Do  not  desire  to  keep 
him  to  yourself.  Do  not  desire  to  stay  at  Corinth, 
and,  in  a  word,  have  no  will,  but  the  will  of  God  ; 
and  who  shall  restrain  you  ;  who  shall  compel  you, 
any  more  than  Zeus  ?  When  you  have  such  a  guide, 
and  conform  your  will  and  inclinations  to  his,  why 
need  you  fear  being  disappointed  ?  Fix  your  desire 
and  aversion  on  riches,  or  poverty  ;  the  one  will 
be  disappointed,  the  other  incurred.  Fix  them  on 
health,  power,  honors,  your  country,  friends,  children, 
in  short,  on  anything  beyond  the  control  of  your  will, 
you  will  be  unfortunate.  But  fix  them  on  Zeus,  on 
the  gods.    Give  yourself  up  to  these  ;  let  these  gov- 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  151 

era  ;  let  your  powers  be  ranged  on  the  same  side 
with  these  ;  and  how  can  you  be  any  longer  unpros- 
perous  ?  But  if,  poor  wretch,  you  envy,  and  pity, 
and  are  jealous,  and  tremble,  and  never  cease  a  sin- 
gle day  from  complaining  of  yourself  and  the  gods, 
why  do  you  boast  of  your  education  ?  What  edu- 
cation, man  ?  That  you  have  learned  syllogisms  ? 
Why  do  not  you,  if  possible,  unlearn  all  these,  and 
begin  again  ;  convinced  that  hitherto  you  have  not 
even  touched  upon  the  essential  point  ?  And,  for  the 
future,  beginning  from  this  foundation,  proceed  in  or- 
der to  the  superstructure  ;  that  nothing  may  happen 
which  you  do  not  wish,  and  that  everything  may 
happen  which  you  desire.  Give  me  but  one  young 
man,  who  brings  this  intention  with  him  to  the 
school ;  who  is  a  champion  for  this  point,  and  says, 
"  I  yield  up  all  the  rest ;  it  suffices  me,  if  once  I  be- 
come able  to  pass  my  life  free  from  hindrance  and 
grief;  to  stretch  out  my  neck  to  all  events  as  free ; 
and  to  look  up  to  Heaven,  as  the  friend  of  God,  fear- 
ing nothing  that  can  happen.',  Let  any  one  of  you 
show  himself  of  such  a  disposition,  that  I  may  say, 
"  Come  into  the  place,  young  man,  that  is  of  right 
your  own  ;  for  you  are  destined  to  be  an  ornament  to 
philosophy.  Yours  are  these  possessions  ;  yours  these 
books  ;  yours  these  discourses."  Then,  when  he  has 
thoroughly  mastered  this  first  class,  let  him  come  to 
me  again,  and  say :  "  I  desire  indeed  to  be  free  from 
passion,  and  perturbation ;  but  I  desire  too,  as  a 
pious,  a  philosophic,  and  a  diligent  man,  to  know 
what  is  my  duty  to  God,  to  my  parents,  to  my  rela- 
tions, to  my  country,  and  to  strangers."  Come  in- 
to the  second  class  too  ;  for  this  likewise  is  yours. 
"  But  I  have  now  sufficiently  studied  the  second  class 


152  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

too  ;  and  I  would  willingly  be  secure,  and  unshaken 
by  error  and  delusion,  not  only  when  awake,  but 
even  when  asleep ;  when  warmed  with  wine  ;  when 
diseased  with  the  spleen."  You  are  becoming  as  a 
god,  man  ;  your  aims  are  sublime  ! 

"  Nay ;  but  I,  for  my  part,  desire  to  understand 
what  Chrysippus  says,  in  his  logical  treatise  of  the 
Pseudomenos."  *  —  Go  hang  yourself,  pitiful  man, 
with  only  such  an  aim  as  this !  What  good  will  it 
do  you  ?  You  will  read  the  whole,  lamenting  all  the 
while ;  and  say  to  others,  trembling,  "  Do  as  I  do. 
Shall  I  read  to  you,  my  friend,  and  you  to  me? 
You  write  amazingly  well ;  and  you  very  finely  imi- 
tate the  style  of  Plato  ;  and  you,  of  Xenophon  ;  and 
you,  of  Antisthenes.',  And  thus,  having  related  your 
dreams  to  each  other,  you  return  again  to  the  same 
state.  Your  desires  and  aversions,  your  pursuits, 
your  intentions,  your  resolutions,  your  wishes  and 
endeavors,  are  just  what  they  were.  You  do  not  so 
much  as  seek  for  one  to  advise  you,  but  are  offended 
when  you  hear  such  things  as  these ;  and  cry,  "  An 
ill-natured  old  man !  He  never  wept  over  me,  when 
I  was  setting  out,  nor  said,  To  what  a  danger  are 
you  going  to  be  exposed?  If  you  come  off  safe, 
child,  I  will  illuminate  my  house.  This  would  have 
been  the  part  of  a  man  of  feeling. "  Truly,  it  will  be 
a  mighty  happiness,  if  you  do  come  off  safe :  it  will 
be  worth  while  to  make  an  illumination.  For  you 
ought  to  be  immortal,  and  exempt  from  sickness,  to 
be  sure. 

*  The  "  Pseudomenos  "  was  a  famous  problem  among  the  Stoics, 
and  it  is  this.  When  a  person  says,  /  lie ;  does  he  lie,  or  does  he 
not  ?  If  he  lies,  he  speaks  truth  :  if  he  speaks  truth,  he  lies.  Chry- 
sippus wrote  six  books  upon  it.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  153 

Throwing  away  then,  I  say,  this  self-conceit,  by 
which  we  fancy  we  have  gained  some  knowledge  of 
what  is  useful,  we  should  come  to  philosophic  reason- 
ing as  we  do  to  mathematics  and  music ;  otherwise 
we  shall  be  far  from  making  any  improvement,  even 
if  we  have  read  over  all  the  compends  and  commen- 
taries, not  only  of  Chrysippus,  but  of  Antipater,  and 
Archedemus  too. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

HOW   THE    SEMBLANCES    OF   THINGS   ARE   TO   BE 
COMBATED.- 

EVERY  habit  and  faculty  is  preserved  and  in- 
creased by  correspondent  actions ;  as  the  habit 
of  walking,  by  walking ;  of  running,  by  running.  If 
you  would  be  a  reader,  read  ;  if  a  writer,  write.  But 
if  you  do  not  read  for  a  month  together,  but  do  some- 
thing else  ;  you  will  see  what  will  be  the  consequence. 
So,  after  sitting  still  for  ten  days,  get  up  and  attempt 
to  take  a  long  walk  ;  and  you  will  find  how  your  legs 
are  weakened.  Upon  the  whole  then,  whatever  you 
would  make  habitual,  practise  it ;  and,  if  you  would 
not  make  a  thing  habitual,  do  not  practise  it,  but 
habituate  yourself  to  something  else. 

It  is  the  same  with  regard  to  the  operations  of  the 
soul.  Whenever  you  are  angry,  be  assured,  that  it 
is  not  only  a  present  evil,  but  that  you  have  increased 
a  habit,  and  added  fuel  to  a  fire.  When  you  are  over- 
come by  the  seductions  of  a  woman,  do  not  consider 
it  as  a  single  defeat  alone,  but  that  you  have  fed,  that 
you  have  increased,  your  dissoluteness.     For  it  is  im- 


154  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

possible,  but  that  habits  and  faculties  must  either  be 
first  produced,  or  strengthened  and  increased,  by  cor- 
responding actions.  Hence  the  philosophers  derive 
the  growth  of  all  maladies.  When  you  once  desire 
money,  for  example,  if  reason  be  applied  to  produce 
a  sense  of  the  evil,  the  desire  ceases,  and  the  govern- 
ing faculty  of  the  mind  regains  its  authority ;  where- 
as, if  you  apply  no  remedy,  it  returns  no  more  to  its 
former  state,  but,  being  again  similarly  excited,  it 
kindles  at  the  desire  more  quickly  than  before ;  and 
by  frequent  repetitions,  at  last  becomes  callous,  and 
by  this  malady  is  the  love  of  money  fixed.  For  he 
who  has  had  a  fever,  even  after  it  has  left  him,  is  not 
in  the  same  state  of  health  as  before,  unless  he  was 
perfectly  cured ;  and  the  same  thing  happens  in 
distempers  of  the  soul  likewise.  There  are  certain 
traces  and  blisters  left  in  it ;  which,  unless  they  are 
well  effaced,  whenever  a  new  hurt  is  received  in  the 
same  part,  instead  of  blisters  will  become  sores. 

If  you  would  not  be  of  an  angry  temper,  then,  do 
not  feed  the  habit.  Give  it  nothing  to  help  its  in- 
crease. Be  quiet  at  first,  and  reckon  the  days  in 
which  you  have  not  been  angry.  I  used  to  be  angry 
every  day ;  now  every  other  day  ;  then  every  third 
and  fourth  day ;  and  if  you  miss  it  so  long  as  thirty 
days,  offer  a  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  to  God.  For 
habit  is  first  weakened,  and  then  entirely  destroyed. 
"  I  was  not  vexed  to-day ;  nor  the  next  day ;  nor  for 
three  or  four  months  after;  but  restrained  myself 
under  provocation."  Be  assured,  that  you  are  in 
an  excellent  way.  "  To-day,  when  I  saw  a  handsome 
person,  I  did  not  say  to  myself,  0  that  I  could  possess 
her !  and  how  happy  is  her  husband  "  (for  he  who 
says  this,  says  too,  how  happy  is  her  gallant)  ;  "  nor 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  155 

did  I  go  on  to  fancy  her  in  my  arms."  On  this  I 
stroke  my  head,  and  say,  Well  done,  Epictetus ;  thou 
hast  solved  a  hard  problem,  harder  than  the  chief  syl- 
logism. But,  if  even  the  lady  should  happen  to  be 
willing  and  give  me  intimations  of  it,  and  send  for 
me,  and  press  my  hand,  and  place  herself  next  to 
me  ;  and  I  should  then  forbear,  and  get  the  victory ; 
that  would  be  a  triumph  beyond  all  the  forms  of  logic. 
This  is  the  proper  subject  for  exultation,  and  not  one's 
power  in  handling  the  syllogism. 

How  then  is  this  to  be  effected?  Be  willing  to 
approve  yourself  to  yourself.  Be  willing  to  appear 
beautiful  in  the  sight  of  God;  be  desirous  to  con- 
verse in  purity  with  your  own  pure  mind,  and  with 
God  ;  and  then,  if  any  such  semblance  bewilders  you, 
Plato  directs  you :  "  Have  recourse  to  expiations  ; 
go  a  suppliant  to  the  temples  of  the  averting  deities. " 
It  is  sufficient,  however,  if  you  propose  to  yourself 
the  example  of  wise  and  good  men,  whether  alive  or 
dead ;  and  compare  your  conduct  with  theirs.  Go 
to  Socrates,  and  see  him  placed  beside  his  beloved, 
yet  not  seduced  by  youth  and  beauty.  Consider 
what  a  victory  he  was  conscious  of  obtaining !  What 
an  Olympic  triumph!  How  near  does  he  rank  to 
Hercules  !  *  So  that,  by  Heaven,  one  might  justly  sa- 
lute him ;  hail !  wondrous  victor  !  f  instead  of  those 
sorry  boxers  and  wrestlers,  and  the  gladiators  who 
resemble  them. 

By  placing  such  an  example  before  you,  you  will 

*  Hercules  is  said  to  have  been  *he  author  of  the  gymnastic  games ; 
and  the  first  victor.  Those  who  afterwards  conquered  in  wrestling, 
and  the  pancratium,  were  numbered  from  him.  —  C. 

t  This  pompous  title  was  given  to  those  who  had  been  victors  in 
all  the  Olympic  games.  —  C.    . 


156  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

conquer  any  alluring  semblance,  and  not  be  drawn 
away  by  it.  But  in  the  first  place,  be  not  hurried 
away  by  excitement;  but  say,  Semblance,  wait  for 
me  a  little.  Let  me  see  what  you  are,  and  what  you 
represent.  Let  me  try  you.  Then,  afterwards,  do 
not  suffer  it  to  go  on  drawing  gay  pictures  of  what 
will  follow ;  if  you  do,  it  will  lead  you  wherever  it 
pleases.  But  rather  oppose  to  it  some  good  and  no- 
ble semblance,  and  banish  this  base  one.  If  you  are 
habituated  to  this  kind  of  exercise,  you  will  see  what 
shoulders,  what  nerves,  what  sinews,  you  will  have. 
But  now  it  is  mere  trifling  talk,  and  nothing  more. 
He  is  the  true  athlete,  who  trains  himself  against 
such  semblances  as  these.  Stay,  wretch,  do  not  be 
hurried  away.  The  combat  is  great,  the  achievement 
divine ;  for  empire,  for  freedom,  for  prosperity,  for 
tranquillity.  Remember  God.  Invoke  him  for  your 
aid  and  protector ;  as  sailors  do  Castor  and  Pollux, 
in  a  storm.  For  what  storm  is  greater  than  that 
which  arises  from  these  perilous  semblances,  contend- 
ing to  overset  our  reason  ?  Indeed  what  is  the  storm 
itself,  but  a  semblance?  For,  do  but  take  away 
the  fear  of  death,  and  let  there  be  as  many  thunders 
and  lightnings  as  you  please,  you  will  find,  that  to 
the  reasOn  all  is  serenity  and  calm  ;  but  if  you  are 
once  defeated,  and  say,  you  will  get  the  victory  an- 
other time,  and  then  the  same  thing  over  again  ; 
assure  yourself  that  you  will  at  last  be  reduced  to 
so  weak  and  wretched  a  condition,  you  will  not  so 
much  as  know  when  you  do  amiss ;  but  you  will 
even  begin  to  make  defences  for  your  behavior,  and 
thus  verify  the  saying  of  Hesiod :  — 

With  constant  ills,  the  dilatory  strive.* 
*  Works  and  Days,  v.  383.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  157 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

CONCERNING  THOSE  WHO  EMBRACE  PHILOSOPHY  ONLY 
IN  WORDS. 

THE  science  of  "  the  ruling  argument  "  *  appears 
to  have  its  rise  from  hence.  Of  the  following 
propositions,  any  two  imply  a  contradiction  to  the 
third.  They  are  these.  "  That  everything  past  is 
necessarily  true  "  ;  "  That  an  impossibility  is  not  the 
consequence  of  a  possibility " ;  and,  "  That  some- 
thing is  a  possibility,  which  neither  is  nor  will  be 
true."  Diodorus,  perceiving  this  contradiction,  com- 
bined the  first  two,  to  prove,  that  nothing  is  possible, 
which  neither  is  nor  will  be  true.  Some  again  hold 
the  second  and  third ;  "  that  something  is  possible, 
which  neither  is  nor  will  be  true  "  ;  and,  "  that  an 
impossibility  is  not  the  consequence  of  a  possibility  "  ; 
and  consequently  assert,  "  That  not  everything  past 
is  necessarily  true."  This  way  Clean thes  and  his 
followers  took ;  whom  Antipater  copiously  defends. 
Others,  lastly,  maintain  the  first  and  third ;  "  that 
something  is  possible,  which  neither  is  nor  will  be 
true "  ;  and  "  that  everything  past  is  necessarily 
true  "  ;  but  then,  "  that  an  impossibility  may  be  the 
consequence  of  a  possibility."  But  all  these  three 
propositions  cannot  be  at  once  maintained,  because 
of  their  mutual  contradiction. 

If  any  one  should  ask  me  then,  which  of  them  I 
maintain ;  I  answer  him,  that  really  I  cannot  tell. 
But  I  have  heard  it  related,  that  Diodorus  held  one 
opinion  about  them ;  the  followers  of  Panthaedes,  I 

*  A  logical  subtlety.  —  H. 


158  THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

think,  and  Cleanthes,  another;  and  Chrysippus  a 
third. 

"  What  then  is  your  opinion  ?  " 

I  express  none.  I  was  born  to  examine  things  as 
they  appear  to  my  own  mind;  to  compare  what  is 
said  by  others,  and  thence  to  form  some  conviction 
of  my  own  on  any  topic.  Of  these  things  I  have 
merely  technical  knowledge.  Who  was  the  father 
of  Hector  ?  Priam.  Who  were  his  brothers  ?  Paris 
and  Deiphobus.  Who  was  his  mother?  Hecuba. 
This  I  have  heard  related.  From  whom?  Homer. 
But  I  believe  Hellanicus,  and  other  authors,,  have 
written  on  the  same  subject.  And  what  better  ac- 
count have  I  of  "  the  ruling  argument "  ?  But,  if  I 
were  vain  enough,  I  might,  especially  at  some  enter- 
tainment, astonish  all  the  company  by  an  enumeration 
of  authors  relating  to  it.  Chrysippus  has  written 
wonderfully,  in  his  first  Book  of  Possibilities.  Clean- 
thes and  Archedemus  have  each  written  separately 
on  this  subject.  Antipater  too  has  written,  not  only 
in  his  Treatise  of  Possibilities,  but  especially  in  a  dis- 
course on  "  the  ruling  argument.''  Have  you  not 
read  the  work ?  "No."  Read  it  then.  And  what 
good  will  it  do  him  ?  He  will  be  more  trifling  and 
impertinent  than  he  is  already.  For  what  else  have 
you  gained  by  reading  it?  What  conviction  have 
you  formed  upon  this  subject?  But  you  tell  us  of 
Helen,  and  Priam,  and  the  isle  of  Calypso,  some- 
thing which  never  was,  nor  ever  will  be.  And  in 
these  matters,  indeed,  it  is  of  no  great  consequence 
if  you  retain  the  story,  without  forming  any  prin- 
ciple of  your  own.  But  it  is  our  misfortune  to  do 
so,  much  more,  in  morality,  than  upon  such  subjects 
as  these. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  159 

"  Talk  to  me  concerning  good  and  evil." 
Hear: 

"  Winds  blew  from  Ilium  to  Ciconian  shores."  * 

Of  things,  some  are  good,  some  evil,  and  some  in- 
different. Now  the  good  are  the  virtues,  and  what- 
ever partakes  of  them ;  and  the  evil,  vices,  and  what 
partakes  of  vice ;  the  indifferent  lie  between  these, 
as  riches,  health,  life,  death,  pleasure,  pain. 

"  Whence  do  you  know  this?  " 

[Suppose  I  say,]  Hellanicus  says  it,  in  his  Egyp- 
tian History.  For  what  does  it  signify,  whether  one 
quotes  the  history  of  Hellanicus,  or  the  ethics  of 
Diogenes,  or  Chrysippus,  or  Cleanthes  ?  Have  you 
then  examined  any  of  these  things,  and  formed  con- 
victions of  your  own  ?  But  show  me,  how  you  are 
used  to  exercise  yourself  on  shipboard.  Remember 
these  distinctions,  when  the  mast  rattles,  and  some 
idle  fellow  stands  by  you,  while  you  are  screaming, 
and  says :  "  For  heaven's  sake,  talk  as  you  did  a  little 
while  ago.  Is  it  vice  to  suffer  shipwreck  ?  Or  does 
it  partake  of  vice  ?  "  Would  you  not  take  up  a  log, 
and  throw  it  at  his  head  ?  "  What  have  we  to  do 
with  you,  sir  ?  We  are  perishing,  and  you  come  and 
jest."  Again ;  if  Caesar  should  summon  you,  to  an- 
swer an  accusation,  remember  these  distinctions.  If, 
when  you  are  going  in,  pale  and  trembling,  any  one 
should  meet  you  and  say,  "  Why  do  you  tremble,  sir  ? 
What  is  this  affair  you  are  engaged  in  ?  Doth  Caesar, 
within  there,  give  virtue  and  vice  to  those  who  ap- 
proach him  ?  " — "  What,  do  you  too  insult  me,  and 
add  to  my  evils?"  —  "Nay,  but  tell  me,  philoso- 
pher, why  you  tremble  ?     Is  there  any  other  danger, 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  IX.  39.  The  expression  became  proverbial, 
signifying  "  from  bad  to  worse."  —  H. 


160  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

but  death,  or  a  prison,  or  bodily  pain,  or  exile,  or 
slander  ?  "  —  "  Why,  what  else  should  there  be  ?  "  — 
"  Are  any  of  these  vice  ?  Or  do  they  partake  of  vice  ? 
What,  then,  did  you  yourself  use  to  say  of  these 
things ?" —  "What  have  you  to  do  with  me,  sir? 
My  own  evils  are  enough  for  me."  — "  You  say 
rightly.  Your  own  evils  are  indeed  enough  for  you  ; 
your  baseness,  your  cowardice,  and  that  arrogance 
by  which  you  were  elated,  as  you  sat  in  the  schools. 
Why  did  you  assume  plumage  not  your  own  ?  Why 
did  you  call  yourself  a  Stoic  ?  " 

Observe  yourselves  thus  in  your  actions,  and  .you 
will  find  of  what  sect  you  are.  You  will  find,  that 
most  of  you  are  Epicureans ;  a  few  Peripatetics,  and 
those  but  loose  ones.  For  by  what  action  will  you 
prove  that  you  think  virtue  equal,  and  even  superior, 
to  all  other  things  ?  Show  me  a  Stoic,  if  you  have 
one.  Where  ?  Or  how  should  you  ?  You  can  show, 
indeed,  a  thousand  who  repeat  the  Stoic  reasonings. 
But  do  they  repeat  the  Epicurean  less  well?  Are 
they  not  just  as  perfect  in  the  Peripatetic  ?  Who  then 
is  a  Stoic  ?  As  we  call  that  a  Phidian  statue,  which 
is  formed  according  to  the  art  of  Phidias ;  so  show 
me  some  one  person  formed  according  to  the  princi- 
ples which  he  professes.  Show  me  one  who  is  sick, 
and  happy  ;  in  danger,  and  happy  ;  dying,  and  happy  ; 
exiled,  and  happy  ;  disgraced,  and  happy.  Show  him 
to  me  ;  for,  by  Heaven,  I  long  to  see  a  Stoic.  But  you 
have  not  one  fully  developed?  Show  me  then  one 
who  is  developing ;  one  who  is  approaching  towards 
this  character.  Do  me  this  favor.  Do  not  refuse  an 
old  man  a  sight  which  he  has  never  yet  seen.  Do  you 
suppose  that  you  are  to  show  the  Jupiter  or  Minerva 
of  Phidias,  a  work  of  ivory  or  gold  ?     Let  any  of  you 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  161 

show  me  a  human  soul,  desiring  to  be  in  unity  with 
God ;  not  to  accuse  either  God  or  man ;  not  to  be 
disappointed  of  its  desire,  nor  incur  its  aversion ;  not 
to  be  angry  ;  not  to  be  envious  ;  not  to  be  jealous  ;  in 
a  word,  desiring  from  a  man  to  become  a  god  ;  and, 
in  this  poor  mortal  body,  aiming  to  have  fellow- 
ship with  Zeus.  Show  him  to  me.  But  you  cannot. 
Why  then  do  you  impose  upon  yourselves,  and  play 
tricks  with  others  ?  Why  do  you  put  on  a  dress  not 
your  own ;  and  walk  about  in  it,  mere  thieves  and 
pilferers  of  names  and  things  which  do  not  belong  to 
you  ?  I  am  now  your  preceptor,  and  you  come  to  be 
instructed  by  me.  And  indeed  my  aim  is  to  secure 
you  from  being  restrained,  compelled,  hindered ;  to 
make  you  free,  prosperous,  happy ;  looking  to  God 
upon  every  occasion,  great  or  small.  And  you  come 
to  learn  and  study  these  things.  Why  then  do  you 
not  finish  your  work,  if  you  have  the  proper  aims, 
and  I,  besides  the  aim,  the  proper  qualifications  ? 
What  is  wanting  ?  When  I  see  an  artificer,  and  the 
materials  lying  ready,  I  await  the  work.  Now  here 
is  the  artificer  ;  here  are  the  materials  ;  what  is  it  we 
want  ?  Is  not  the  thing  capable  of  being  taught  ?  It 
is.  Is  it  not  in  our  own  power  then  ?  The  only  thing 
of  all  others  that  is  so.  Neither  riches,  nor  health, 
nor  fame,  nor,  in  short,  anything  else  is  in  our  power, 
except  a  right  use  of  the  semblances  of  things.  This 
alone  is,  by  nature,  not  subject  to  restraint,  not  sub 
ject  to  hindrance.  Why  then  do  not  you  finish  it  ? 
Tell  me  the  cause.  It  must  be  my  fault,  or  yours,  or 
from  the  nature  of  the  thing.  The  thing  itself  is  prac- 
ticable, and  the  only  thing  in  our  power.  The  fault 
then  must  be  either  in  me,  or  in  you,  or,  more  truly, 
in  both.  Well  then,  shall  we  at  length  begin  to  carry 
11 


162  THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

such  an  aim  with  us  ?   Let  us  lay  aside  all  that  is  past. 
Let  us  begin.     Only  believe  me,  and  you  shall  see. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

CONCERNING   THE   EPICUREANS    AND   ACADEMICS. 

THINGS  true  and  evident  must,  of  necessity,  be 
recognized  even  by  those  who  would  contradict 
them.  And  perhaps  one  of  the  strongest  proofs  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  evidence,  is  the  necessity 
which  compels  even  those  who  contradict  it  to  make 
use  of  it.  If  a  person,  for  instance,  should  deny  that 
anything  is  universally  true,  he  will  be  obliged  to  as- 
sert the  contrary,  that  nothing  is  universally  true. 
Foolish  man,  not  so.  For  what  is  this,  but  an  uni- 
versal statement  ?  *  Again  ;  suppose  any  one  should 
come  and  say,  "Know  that  there  is  nothing  to  be 
known ;  but  all  things  are  uncertain  "  ;  or  another, 
"  Believe  me,  for  your  good,  that  no  man  ought  to  be 
believed  in  anything  "  ;  or  a  third,  "  Learn  from  me 
that  nothing  is  to  be  learned ;  I  tell  you  this,  and 
will  teach  the  proof  of  it,  if  you  please."  Now  what 
difference  is  there  between  such  as  these,  and  those 
who  call  themselves  Academics,  —  who  say  to  us, "  Be 
convinced,  that  no  one  ever  is  convinced ;  believe  us, 
that  nobody  believes  anybody  "  ? 

Thus  also,  when  Epicurus  would  destroy  the  nat- 
ural tie  between  mankind,  he  makes  use  of  the  very 
thing  he  is  destroying.  For  what  says  he  ?  "  Be 
not  deceived ;  be  not  seduced  and  mistaken.  There 
is  no  natural  tie  between  reasonable  beings.     Believe 

*  Translation  conjectural.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  163 

me.  Those  who  say  otherwise  mislead  and  impose 
upon  you.' '  —  Why  are  you  concerned  for  us  then? 
Let  us  be  deceived.  You  will  fare  never  the  worse, 
if  all  the  rest  of  us  are  persuaded,  that  there  is  a  nat- 
ural tie  between  mankind ;  and  that  it  is  by  all  means 
to  be  preserved.  Nay,  it  will  be  much  safer  and  bet- 
ter. Why  do  you  give  yourself  any  trouble  about  us, 
sir  ?  Why  do  you  break  your  rest  for  us  ?  Why  do 
you  light  your  lamp  ?  Why  do  you  rise  early  ?  Why 
do  you  compose  so  many  volumes  ?  Is  it  that  none 
of  us  should  be  deceived  concerning  the  gods,  as  if 
they  took  any  care  of  men  ?  Or  that  we  may  not  sup- 
pose the  essence  of  good  consists  in  anything  but  in 
pleasure  ?  For  if  these  things  be  so,  lie  down  and 
sleep,  and  lead  the  life  of  which  you  judge  yourself 
worthy ;  that  of  a  mere  worm.  Eat,  drink,  debauch, 
snore.  What  is  it  to  you,  whether  others  think  right- 
ly or  wrongly  about  these  things?  For  what  have 
you  to  do  with  us?  You  take  care  of  sheep,  be- 
cause they  afford  their  milk,  their  wool,  and  at  last 
their  flesh.  And  would  it  not  be  a  desirable  thing 
that  men  might  be  so  lulled  and  enchanted  by  the 
Stoics  as  to  give  themselves  up  to  be  milked  and 
fleeced  by  you,  and  such  as  you  ?  Should  not  these 
doctrines  be  taught  to  your  brother  Epicureans  only, 
and  concealed  from  the  rest  of  the  world ;  who  should 
by  all  means,  above  all  things,  be  persuaded,  that  we 
have  a  natural  tie  with  each  other,  and  that  self-com- 
mand is  a  good  thing,  in  order  that  all  may  be  kept 
safe  for  you  t  Or  is  this  tie  to  be  preserved  towards 
some  and  not  towards  others  ?  Towards  whom,  then, 
is  it  to  be  preserved  ?  Towards  such  as  mutually  pre- 
serve, or  such  as  violate  it  ?  And  who  violate  it  more 
than  you,  who  teach  such  doctrines  ? 


164  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

What  was  it,  then,  that  waked  Epicurus  from  his 
sleep,  and  compelled  him  to  write  what  he  did  ;  what 
else,  but  that  which  is  of  all  influences  the  most  pow- 
erful among  mankind,  Nature ;  which  draws  every 
one,  however  unwilling  and  reluctant,  to  its  own  pur- 
poses. For  since,  she  says,  you  think  that  there  is 
no  tie  between  mankind,  write  out  this  doctrine,  and 
leave  it  for  the  use  of  others  ;  and  break  your  sleep 
upon  that  account;  and  by  your  own  practice  con- 
fute your  own  principles.  Do  we  say,  that  Orestes 
was  roused  from  sleep  because  driven  by  the  furies  ; 
and  was  not  Epicurus  waked  by  sterner  furies  and 
avengers,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to  rest,  but 
compelled  him  to  utter  his  own  ills,  as  wine  and  mad- 
ness do  the  priests  of  Cybele  ?  So  strong  and  uncon- 
querable a  thing  is  human  nature !  For  how  can  a 
vine  have  the  properties  not  of  a  vine,  but  of  an  olive- 
tree  ?  Or  an  olive-tree,  not  those  of  an  olive-tree,  but 
of  a  vine  ?  It  is  impossible.  It  is  inconceivable.  Nei- 
ther, therefore,  is  it  possible  for  a  human  creature  en- 
tirely to  lose  human  affections.  But  even  those  who 
have  undergone  a  mutilation,  cannot  have  their  in- 
clinations also  mutilated ;  and  so  Epicurus,  when  he 
had  mutilated  all  the  offices  of  a  man,  of  a  master  of 
a  family,  of  a  citizen,  and  of  a  friend,  did  not  muti- 
late the  inclinations  of  humanity ;  for  this  he  could 
not  do  ;  any  more  than  the  idle  Academics  can  throw 
away  or  blind  their  own  senses,  though  this  be  the 
point  they  chiefly  labor.  What  a  misfortune  is  it, 
when  any  one,  after  having  received  from  Nature 
standards  and  mles  for  the  knowledge  of  truth,  does 
not  strive  to  add  to  these,  and  make  up  their  deficien- 
cies ;  tout,  on  the  contrary,  endeavors  to  take  away 
and  destroy  whatever  truth  may  be  known  even  by 
them. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  165 

What  say  you,  philosopher  ?  What  do  you  think 
of  piety  and  sanctity ?  —  "If  you  please,  I  will  prove 
that  they  are  good." — Pray  do  prove  it*  that  our 
citizens  may  be  converted,  and  honor  the  Deity,  and 
may  no  longer  neglect  what  is  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance. "  Do  you  accept  these  demonstrations,  then  ?  " 
I  have,  and  I  thank  you.  "  Since  you  are  so  well 
pleased  with  this,  then,  learn  these  contrary  propo- 
sitions ;  that  there  are  no  gods,  or,  if  there  are, 
that  they  take  no  care  of  mankind,  neither  have  we 
any  concern  with  them  ;  that  this  piety  and  sanctity, 
so  much  talked  of  by  many,  are  only  an  imposition  of 
boasting  and  sophistical  men ;  or,  perhaps,  of  legisla- 
tors, for  a  terror  and  restraint  to  injustice. "  —  Well 
done,  philosopher.  Our  citizens  are  much  the  better 
for  you.  You  have  already  brought  back  all  the 
youth  to  a  contempt  of  the  Deity.  "  What !  does 
not  this  please  you,  then  ?  Learn  next,  that  justice 
is  nothing ;  that  shame  is  folly  ;  that  the  paternal 
relation  is  nothing ;  the  filial,  nothing."  Well  said, 
philosopher ;  persist,  convince  the  youth ;  that  we 
may  have  many  more,  to  think  and  talk  like  you. 
By  such  doctrines  as  these,  no  doubt,  have  our  well- 
governed  states  flourished  !  Upon  these  was  Sparta 
founded !  Lycurgus,  by  his  laws,  and  method  of 
education,  introduced  such  persuasions  as  these ; 
that  it  is  not  base  to  be  slaves,  rather  than  honora- 
ble ;  nor  honorable  to  be  free,  rather  than  base ! 
They  who  died  at  Thermopylae,  died  from  such  prin- 
ciples as  these  !  And  from  what  other  doctrines  did 
the  Athenians  leave  their  city  ?  * 

*  When  the  Athenians  found  themselves  unable  to  resist  the  forces 
of  the  Persians,  they  left  their  city ;  and,  having  removed  their  wives 
and  children,  and  their  movable  effects,  to  Trcezen  and  Salamis, 


166  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

And  yet,  they  who  talk  thus  marry,  and  produce 
children,  and  engage  in  public  affairs,  and  get  them- 
selves made  priests  and  prophets.  Of  whom  ?  Of 
gods  that  have  no  existence.  And  they  consult  the 
Pythian  priestess,  only  to  hear  falsehoods,  and  inter- 
pret the  oracles  to  others.  0 !  monstrous  impudence 
and  imposture ! 

What  are  you  doing,  man  ?  *  You  contradict  your- 
self every  day ;  and  you  will  not  give  up  these  paltry 
cavils.  When  you  eat,  where  do  you  put  your  hand  ? 
To  your  mouth,  or  to  your  eye  ?  When  you  bathe, 
where  do  you  go  ?  Do  you  ever  call  a  kettle  a  dish, 
or  a  spoon  a  spit?  If  I  were  a  servant  to  one  of 
these  gentlemen,  were  it  at  the  hazard  of  being  flayed 
every  day,  I  would  plague  him.  "  Throw  some  oil 
into  the  bath,  boy."  I  would  take  pickle,  and  pour 
upon  his  head.  "  What  is  this  ?  "  Really,  sir,  I  was 
impressed  by  a  certain  semblance  so  like  oil  as  not  to 
be  distinguished  from  it.  "  Give  me  the  soup."  I 
would  carry  him  a  dish  full  of  vinegar.  "  Did  I 
not  ask  for  the  soup  ? "  Yes,  sir,  this  is  the  soup. 
"  Is  not  this  vinegar  ?  "  Why  so,  more  than  soup  ? 
"  Take  it  and  smell  it,  take  it  and  taste  it."  How  do 
you  know,  then,  but  our  senses  deceive  us  ?  If  I  had 
three  or  four  fellow-servants  to  join  with  me,  I  would 
make  him  either  choke  with  passion  and  burst,  or 
change  his  opinions.  But  now  they  insult  us,  by 
making  use  of  the  gifts  of  nature,  while  in  words 
they  destroy  them.  Those  must  be  grateful  and 
modest  men,  at  least,  who,  while  eating  their  daily 

went  on  board  their  ships,  and  defended  the  liberty  of  Greece  by 
their  fleet.  —  C. 

*  What  follows  is  against  the  Academics,  who  denied  the  evidence 
of  the  senses.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  167 

bread,  dare  to  say,  "  We  do  not  know  whether  there 
be  any  such  beings  as  Demeter,  or  Core,  or  Pluto." 
Not  to  mention,  that  while  they  possess  the  blessings 
of  night  and  day,  of  the  annual  seasons,  of  the  stars, 
the  earth  and  the  sea,  they  are  not  the  least  affected 
by  any  of  these  things  ;  but  only  study  to  throw  out 
some  idle  problem,  and  when  they  have  thus  relieved 
themselves,  go  and  bathe  ;  but  take  not  the  least  care 
what  they  say,  nor  on  what  subjects,  nor  to  whom, 
nor  what  may  be  the  consequence  of  their  talk; 
whether  any  well-disposed  young  man,  on  hearing 
such  doctrines,  may  not  be  affected  by  them,  and  so 
affected  as  entirely  to  lose  the  seeds  of  his  good  dis- 
position ;  whether  they  may  not  furnish  an  adulterer 
with  occasions  of  growing  shameless  in  his  guilt; 
whether  a  public  plunderer  may  not  find  excuses 
from  these  doctrines ;  whether  he,  who  neglects  his 
parents,  may  not  gain  an  additional  confidence  from 
them. 

"  What  things,  then,  in  your  opinion,  are  good  and 
evil,  fair  and  base ;  such  things,  or  such  things  ?  " 
But  why  should  one  argue  any  more  with  such  as 
these,  or  interchange  opinions,  or  endeavor  to  con- 
vince them  ?  By  Zeus,  one  might  sooner  hope  to  con- 
vince the  most  unnatural  debauchees,  than  those, 
who  are  thus  deaf  and  blind  to  their  own  ills. 


168  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

OF  INCONSISTENCY. 

THERE  are  some  things  which  men  confess  with 
ease ;  and  others  with  difficulty.  No  one,  for 
instance,  will  confess  himself  a  fool,  or  a  blockhead  ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  you  will  hear  every  one  say,  "I 
wish  my  fortune  were  in  proportion  to  my  abilities." 
But  they  easily  confess  themselves  fearful,  and  say, 
"I  am  somewhat  timorous,  I  confess;  but  in  other 
respects  you  will  not  find  me  a  fool."  No  one  will 
easily  confess  himself  intemperate  in  his  desires ; 
upon  no  account  dishonest,  nor  indeed  very  envious, 
or  meddling;  but  many  confess  themselves  to  have 
the  weakness  of  being  compassionate.  What  is  the 
reason  of  all  this  ?  The  principal  reason  is,  an  incon- 
sistency and  confusion  in  what  relates  to  good  and 
evil.  But  different  people  have  different  motives, 
and  in  general,  whatever  they  imagine  to  be  base, 
they  do  not  absolutely  confess.  Fear  and  compas- 
sion they  imagine  to  belong  to  a  well-meaning  dis- 
position ;  but  stupidity,  to  a  slave.  Offences  against 
society  they  do  not  own ;  but,  in  most  faults,  they 
are  brought  to  a  confession,  chiefly  from  imagining 
that  there  is  something  involuntary  in  them ;  as  in 
fear  and  compassion.  And,  though  a  person  should 
in  some  measure  confess  himself  intemperate  in  his 
desires,  he  accuses  his  passion,  and  expects  forgive- 
ness, as  for  an  involuntary  fault.  But  dishonesty  is 
not  imagined  to  be,  by  any  means,  involuntary.  In 
jealousy  too,  there  is  something  they  suppose  involun- 
tary ;  and  this,  likewise,  in  some  degree,  they  confess. 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  169 

Conversing  therefore  with  such  men,  thus  con- 
fused, thus  ignorant  what  they  say,  and  what  are  or 
are  not  their  ills,  whence  they  have  them,  and  how 
they  may  be  delivered  from  them ;  it  is  worth  while,, 
I  think,  to  ask  one's  self  continually,  "  Am  I  too  one 
of  these  ?  What  do  I  imagine  myself  to  be  ?  How 
do  I  conduct  myself?  As  a  prudent,  as  a  temperate 
man  ?  Do  I,  too,  ever  talk  at  this  rate ;  that  I  am 
sufficiently  instructed  for  what  may  happen  ?  Have 
I  that  persuasion,  that  I  know  nothing,  which  be- 
comes one  who  knows  nothing?  Do  I  go  to  a  mas- 
ter, as  to  an  oracle,  prepared  to  obey ;  or  do  I  also, 
like  a  mere  driveller,  enter  the  school,  only  to  learn 
and  understand  books  which  I  did  not  understand  be- 
fore ;  or,  perhaps,  to  explain  them  to  others  ?  " 

You  have  been  fighting  at  home,  with  your  man- 
servant ;  you  have  turned  the  house  upside-down, 
and  alarmed  the  neighborhood  ;  and  do  you  come 
to  me  with  a  pompous  show  of  wisdom,  and  sit  and 
criticise  how  I  explain  a  sentence,  how  I  prate  what- 
ever comes  into  my  head  ?  Do  you  come,  envious  and 
dejected,  that  nothing  has  come  from  home  for  you  ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  disputations,  sit  thinking  on 
nothing,  but  how  your  father  or  your  brother  may 
treat  you  ?  a  What  are  they  saying  about  me  at 
home  ?  Now  they  think  I  am  improving,  and  say,  he 
will  come  back  with  universal  knowledge.  I  wish  I 
could  learn  everything  before  my  return  ;  but  this 
requires  much  labor,  and  nobody  sends  me  anything. 
The  baths  are  very  bad  at  Nicopolis ;  and  things  go 
very  ill  both  at  home,  and  here.', 

After  all  this,  it  is  said,  nobody  is  the  better  for  the 
philosophic  school.  Why,  who  comes  to  the  school  ? 
I  mean,-  who  comes  to  be  reformed  ?     Who,  to  sub- 


170  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

mit  his  principles  to  correction  ;  who,  with  a  sense  of 
his  wants  ?  Why  do  you  wonder,  then,  that  you 
bring  back  from  the  school  the  very  thing  you  car- 
ried there  ?  For  you  do  not  come  to  lay  aside,  or 
correct,  or  change,  your  principles.  How  should  you  ? 
Far  from  it.  Rather  consider  this,  therefore,  whether 
you  have  not  what  you  have  come  for.  You  have 
come  to  talk  about  theorems.  Well ;  and  are  you  not 
more  impertinently  talkative  than  you  were  ?  Do 
not  these  paltry  theorems  furnish  you  with  matter 
for  ostentation  ?  Do  you  not  solve  convertible  and 
hypothetical  syllogisms?  Why,  then,  are  you  still 
displeased,  if  you  have  the  very  thing  for  which  you 
came  ? 

"  Yery  true ;  but,  if  my  child,  or  my  brother 
should  die  ;  or  if  I  must  die  or  be  tortured  myself, 
what  good  will  these  things  do  me?"  Why,  did  you 
come  for  this  ?  Did  you  attend  upon  me  for  this  ? 
Was  it  upon  any  such  account,  that  you  ever  lighted 
your  lamp,  or  sat  up  at  night?  Or  did  you,  when 
you  went  into  the  walk,  propose  any  delusive  sem- 
blance to  your  own  mind  to  be  discussed,  instead 
of  a  syllogism  ?  Did  any  of  you  ever  go  through  such 
a  subject  jointly  ?  And,  after  all,  you  say,  theorems 
are  useless.  To  whom  ?  To  such  as  apply  them  ill. 
For  medicines  for  the  eyes  are  not  useless  to  those 
who  apply  them  when  and  as  they  ought.  Fomenta- 
tions are  not  useless,  dumb-bells  are  not  useless ; 
but  they  are  useless  to  some,  and,  on  the  contrary, 
useful  to  others.  .  If  you  should  ask  me,  now,  are 
syllogisms  useful  ?  I  should  answer,  that  they  are 
useful ;  and,  if  you  please,  I  will  show  you  how. 
"  Will  they  be  of  service  to  me,  then  ?  "  Why,  did 
you  ask,  man,  whether  they  would  be  useful  to  you. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  171 

or  in  general  ?  If  any  one  in  a  dysentery  should 
ask  me,  whether  acids  be  useful ;  I  should  answer, 
they  are.  "  Are  they  useful  for  me,  then  ?  "  I  say, 
no.  First  try  to  get  the  flux  stopped,  and  the  ul- 
ceration healed.  Do  you  too  first  get  your  ulcers 
healed,  your  fluxes  stopped.  Quiet  your  mind,  and 
bring  it  free  from  distraction  to  the  school ;  and  then 
you  will  know  what  force  there  is  in  reasoning. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

OP   FRIENDSHIP. 

TO  whatever  objects  a  person  devotes  his  attention, 
these  objects  he  probably  loves.  Do  men  ever  de- 
vote their  attention  then,  to  [what  they  think]  evils  ? 
By  no  means.  Or  even  to  things  indifferent?  No, 
nor  this.  It  remains  then,  that  good  must  be  the 
sole  object  of  their  attention  ;  and,  if  of  their  atten- 
tion, of  their  love  too.  Whoever,  therefore,  under- 
stands good,  is  capable  likewise  of  love  ;  and  he  who 
cannot  distinguish  good  from  evil,  and  things  indiffer- 
ent from  both,  how  is  it  possible  that  he  can  love  ? 
The  wise  person  alone,  then,  is  capable  of  loving. 

"  How  so  ?  I  am  not  this  wise  person,  yet  I  love 
my  child." 

I  protest  it  surprises  me,  that  you  should,  in  the 
first  place,  confess  yourself  unwise.  For  in  what  are 
you  deficient  ?  Have  not  you  the  use  of  your  senses  ? 
Do  you  not  distinguish  the  semblances  of  things? 
Do  you  not  provide  such  food  and  clothing  and  hab- 
itation as  are  suitable  to  you  ?  Why  then  do  you  con- 
fess that  you  want  wisdom  ?    In  truth,  because  you 


172  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

are  often  struck  and  disconcerted  by  semblances, 
and  their  speciousness  gets  the  better  of  you ;  and 
hence  you  sometimes  suppose  the  very  same  things 
to  be  good,  then  evil,  and  lastly,  neither ;  and,  in  a 
word,  you  grieve,  you  fear,  you  envy,  you  are  discon- 
certed, you  change.  Is  it  from  this  that  you  con- 
fess yourself  unwise  ?  And  are  you  not  changeable 
too  in  love  ?  Riches,  pleasure,  in  short,  the  very  same 
things,  you  sometimes  esteem  good,  and  at  other  times 
evil.  And  do  you  not  esteem  the  same  persons  too, 
alternately  as  good  and  bad,  at  one  time  treating 
them  with  kindness,  at  another  with  enmity,  at  one 
time  commending,  and  at  another  censuring  them? 

"  Yes.     This  too  is  the  case  with  me." 

Well  then,  can  he  who  is  deceived  in  another,  be 
his  friend,  think  you  ? 

"  No,  surely." 

Or  does  he,  who  loves  him  with  a  changeable  affec- 
tion, bear  him  genuine  good  will  ? 

"  Nor  he,  neither." 

Or  he,  who  noV  vilifies,  then  admires  him  ? 

"  Nor  he." 

Do  you  not  often  see  little  dogs  caressing,  and 
playing  with  each  other,  so  that  you  would  say, 
nothing  could  be  more  friendly ;  but,  to  learn  what 
this  friendship  is,  throw  a  bit  of  meat  between  them, 
and  you  will  see.  Do  you  too  throw  a  bit  of  an  es- 
tate betwixt  you  and  your  son,  and  you  will  see, 
that  he  will  quickly  wish  you  under  ground,  and  you 
him ;  and  then  you,  no  doubt,  on  the  other  hand  will 
exclaim,  What  a  son  have  I  brought  up !  He  would 
bury  me  alive  !  —  Throw  in  a  pretty  girl,  and  the  old 
fellow  and  the  young  one  will  both  fall  in  love  with 
her ;  or  let  fame  or  danger  intervene,  the  words  of 
the  father  of  Admetus  will  be  yours : 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  173 

"  You  love  to  see  the  light.     Doth  not  your  father  1 
You  fain  would  still  behold  it.     Would  not  he  1 "  * 

Do  you  suppose  that  he  did  not  love  his  own  child 
when  it  was  little?  That  he  was  not  in  agonies 
when  it  had  a  fever,  and  often  wished  to  undergo 
that  fever  in  its  stead  ?  But,  after  all,  when  the  trial 
comes  home,  you  see  what  expressions  he  uses.  Were 
not  Eteocles  and  Polynices  born  of  the  same  mother, 
and  of  the  same  father  ?  Were  they  not  brought  up, 
and  did  they  not  live,  and  eat,  and  sleep,  together  ? 
Did  not  they  kiss  and  fondle  each  other  ?  So  that 
any  one,  who  saw  them,  would  have  laughed  at  all 
the  paradoxes  which  philosophers  utter  about  love. 
And  yet,  when  a  kingdom,  like  a  bit  of  meat,  was 
thrown  betwixt  them,  see  what  they  say. 

Polynices.     "  Where  wilt  thou  stand  before  the  towers  ?  " 
Eteocles.     **  Why  askest  thou  this  of  me  1  " 
Pol.     "  I  will  oppose  myself  to  thee,  to  slay  thee." 
Et.     "  Me  too  the  desire  of  this  seizes."  t 

Such  are  the  prayers  they  offer.  Be  not  therefore 
deceived.  No  living  being  is  held  by  anything  so 
strongly  as  by  its  own  needs.  Whatever  therefore 
appears  a  hindrance  to  these,  be  it  brother,  or  father, 
or  child,  or  mistress,  or  friend,  is  hated,  abhorred, 
execrated  ;  for  by  nature  it  loves  nothing  like  its  own 
needs.  This  motive  is  father,  and  brother,  and  fam- 
ily, and  country,  and  God.  Whenever,  therefore,  the 
Gods  seem  to  hinder  this,  we  vilify  even  them,  and 
throw  down  their  statues,  and  burn  their  temples  ; 

*  Euripides,  Alcestis,  v.  [691]  701.  The  second  line,  as  quoted  by 
Epictetus,  is  not  found  in  the  received  editions.  Pheres,  the  father  of 
Admetus,  is  defending  himself  for  not  consenting  to  die  in  place  of 
his  son.  —  H. 

f  Euripides,  Phoenissae,  v.  630,  631. 


174  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

as  Alexander  ordered  the  temple  of  JEsculapius  to  be 
burnt,  because  he  had  lost  the  man  he  loved. 

When  therefore  any  one  identifies  his  interest  with 
those  of  sanctity,  virtue,  country,  parents,  and  friends, 
all  these  are  secured ;  but  whenever  he  places  his 
interest  in  anything  else  than  friends,  country,  fam- 
ily, and  justice,  then  these  all  give  way,  borne  down 
by  the  weight  of  self-interest.  For  wherever  I  and 
mine  are  placed,  thither  must  every  living  being 
gravitate.  If  in  body,  that  will  sway  us ;  if  in  our 
own  will,  that ;  if  in  externals,  these.  If,  there- 
fore, I  rest  my  personality  in  the  will,  then  only  shall 
I  be  a  friend,  a  son,  or  a  father,  such  as  I  ought. 
For,  in  that  case,  it  will  be  for  my  interest  to  pre- 
serve the  faithful,  the  modest,  the  patient,  the  absti- 
nent, the  beneficent  character ;  to  keep  the  relations 
of  life  inviolate.  But,  if  I  place  my  personality  in  one 
thing,  and  virtue  in  another,  the  doctrine  of  Epicurus 
will  stand  its  ground,  that  virtue  is  nothing,  or  mere 
opinion. 

From  this  ignorance  it  was,  that  the  Athenians  and 
Lacedemonians  quarrelled  with  each  other,  and  the 
Thebans  with  both ;  the  Persian  king  with  Greece, 
and  the  Macedonians  with  both ;  and  now  the  Ro- 
mans with  the  Getes.  And,  in  still  remoter  times 
the  Trojan  war  arose  from  the  same  cause.  Alexan- 
der [Paris]  was  the  guest  of  Menelaus  ;  and  whoever 
had  seen  the  mutual  proofs  of  good  will,  that  passed 
between  them,  would  never  have  believed  that  they 
were  not  friends.  But  a  tempting  bait,  a  pretty 
woman,  was  thrown  in  between  them;  and  thence 
came  war.  At  present,  therefore,  when  you  see  that 
dear  brothers  have,  in  appearance,  but  one  soul,  do 
not  immediately  pronounce  upon  their  love;  not 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  175 

though  they  should  swear  it,  and  affirm  it  was  impos- 
sible to  live  asunder.  For  the  governing  faculty  of  a 
bad  man  is  faithless,  unsettled,  undiscriminating,  suc- 
cessively vanquished  by  different  semblances.  But 
inquire,  not  as  others  do,  whether  they  were  born  of 
the  same  parents,  and  brought  up  together,  and 
under  the  same  preceptor ;  but  this  thing  only,  in 
what  they  place  their  interest;  in  externals,  or  in 
their  own  wills.  If  in  externals,  you  can  no  more 
pronounce  them  friends,  than  you  can  call  them 
faithful,  or  constant,  or  brave,  or  free  ;  nay,  nor  even 
truly  men,  if  you  are  wise.  For  it  is  no  principle  of 
humanity,  that  makes  them  bite  and  vilify  each  other, 
and  take  possession  of  public  assemblies,  as  wild  beasts 
do  of  solitudes  and  mountains  ;  and  convert  courts  of 
justice  into  dens  of  robbers ;  that  prompts  them  to 
be  intemperate,  adulterers,  seducers  ;  or  leads  them 
into  other  offences,  that  men  commit  against  each 
other,  —  all  from  that  one  single  error,  by  which  they 
risk  themselves,  and  their  own  concerns,  on  things 
uncontrollable  by  will. 

But  if  you  hear,  that  these  men  in  reality  suppose 
good  to  be  placed  only  in  the  will,  and  in  a  right  use 
of  things  as  they  appear  ;  no  longer  take  the  trouble 
of  inquiring  if  they  are  father  and  son,  or  old  com- 
panions and  acquaintances ;  but  boldly  pronounce 
that  they  are  friends,  and  also  that  they  are  faithful 
and  just.  For  where  else  can  friendship  be  met,  but 
joined  with  fidelity  and  modesty,  and  the  intercom- 
munication of  virtue  alone  ? 

"  Well ;  but  such  a  one  paid  me  the  utmost  regard, 
for  so  long  a  time,  and  did  he  not  love  me  ?  " 

How  can  you  tell,  foolish  man,  if  that  regard  bo 
any  other  than  he  pays  to  his  shoes,  or  his  horse, 


176  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

when  he  cleans  them  ?  And,  how  do  you  know  but 
that  when  you  cease  to  be  a  necessary  utensil,  he  may 
throw  you  away,  like  a  broken  stool  ? 

"  Well ;  but  it  is  my  wife,  and  we  have  lived 
together  many  years." 

And  how  many  did  Eriphyle  live  with  Amphia- 
raus ;  and  was  the  mother  of  children,  not  a  few  ? 
But  a  bauble  came  between  them.  What  was  this 
bauble  ?  A  false  conviction  concerning  certain  things. 
This  turned  her  into  a  savage  animal ;  this  cut  asun- 
der all  love,  and  suffered  neither  the  wife  nor  the 
mother  to  continue  such.* 

Whoever  therefore,  among  you,  studies  either  to 
be  or  to  gain  a  friend,  let  him  cut  up  all  false  convic- 
tions by  the  root,  hate  them,  drive  them  utterly  out 
of  his  soul.  Thus,  in  the  first  place,  he  will  be  secure 
from  inward  reproaches  and  contests ;  from  vacilla- 
tion and  self-torment.  Then  with  respect  to  others  ;  to 
every  like-minded  person,  he  will  be  without  disguise  ; 
to  such  as  are  unlike,  he  will  be  patient,  mild,  gentle, 
and  ready  to  forgive  them,  as  failing  in  points  of  the 
greatest  importance ;  but  severe  to  none,  being  fully 
convinced  of  Plato's  doctrine,  that  the  soul  is  never 
willingly  deprived  of  truth.  Without  all  this,  you 
may,  in  many  respects,  live  as  friends  do ;  and  drink, 
and  lodge,  and  travel  together,  and  even  be  born  of 
the  same  parents ;  and  so  may  serpents  too ;  but 
neither  they  nor  you  can  ever  be  really  friends,  while 
your  accustomed  principles  remain  brutal  and  exe- 
crable. 

*  Amphiaraus  married  Eriphyle,  the  sister  of  Adrastus,  king  of 
Argos,  and  was  betrayed  by  her  for  a  golden  chain.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  177 

* 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

OP  ELOQUENCE. 

A  BOOK  will  always  be  read  with  more  pleasure 
and  ease,  if  it  be  written  in  fair  characters  ;  and 
so  every  one  will  the  more  easily  attend  to  discourses 
likewise,  if  ornamented  with  proper  and  beautiful  ex- 
pressions. It  ought  not  then  to  be  said,  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  the  faculty  of  eloquence  ;  for  this 
would  be  at  once  the  part  of  an  impious  and  timid 
person.  Impious,  because  he  dishonors  the  gifts  of 
God  ;  just  as  if  he  should  deny  any  use  in  the  facul- 
ties of  sight,  hearing,  and  speech  itself.  Hath  God 
then  given  you  eyes  in  vain  ?  Is  it  in  vain,  that  he 
hath  infused  into  them  such  a  strong  and  active 
spirit,  as  to  be  able  to  represent  the  forms  of  distant 
objects  ?  What  messenger  is  so  quick  and  diligent  ? 
Is  it  in  vain,  that  he  hath  made  the  intermediate  air 
so  yielding  and  elastic,  that  sight  penetrates  through 
it  ?  And  is  it  in  vain,  that  he  hath  made  the  light, 
without  which  all  the  rest  would  be  useless  ?  Man, 
be  not  ungrateful,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  unmindful 
of  your  superior  advantages ;  but  for  sight,  and  hear- 
ing, and  indeed  for  life  itself,  and  the  supports  of  it, 
as  fruits,  and  wine,  and  oil,  be  thankful  to  God  ;  but 
remember  that  He  hath  given  you  another  thing,  su- 
perior to  them  all,  which  uses  them,  proves  them, 
estimates  the  value  of  each.  For  what  is  it  that  pro- 
nounces upon  the  value  of  each  of  these  faculties  ? 
Is  it  the  faculty  itself  ?  Did  you  ever  perceive  the 
faculty  of  sight  or  hearing,  to  say  anything  concern- 
ing itself  ?  Qr  wheat,  or  barley,  or  horses,  or  dogs  ? 
12 


178  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

No.  These  things  are  appointed  as  instruments  and 
servants,  to  obey  that  which  is  capable  of  using  things 
as  they  appear.  If  you  inquire  the  value  of  any- 
thing ;  of  what  do  you  inquire  ?  What  is  the  faculty 
that  answers  you  ?  How  then  can  any  faculty  be 
superior  to  this,  which  uses  all  the  rest  as  instru- 
ments, and  tries  and  pronounces  concerning  each  of 
them  ?  For  which  of  them  knows  what  itself  is  ;  and 
what  is  its  own  value  ?  Which  of  them  knows,  when 
it  is  to  bo  used,  and  when  not  ?  Which  is  it,  that 
opens  and  shuts  the  eyes,  and  turns  them  away  from 
improper  objects  ?  Is  it  the  faculty  of  sight  ?  No  ; 
but  that  of  Will.  Which  is  it,  that  opens  and  shuts 
the  ears  ?  Which  is  it,  by  which  they  are  made  curi- 
ous and  inquisitive ;  or  on  the  contrary  deaf,  and 
unaffected  by  what  is  said  ?  Is  it  the  faculty  of  hear- 
ing ?  No  ;  but  that  of  Will.  This,  then,  recognizing 
itself  to  exist  amidst  other  faculties,  all  blind  and 
deaf,  and  unable  to  discern  anything  but  those  offices, 
in  which  they  are  appointed  to  minister  and  serve ; 
itself  alone  sees  clearly,  and  distinguishes  the  value 
of  each  of  the  rest.  Will  this,  I  say,  inform  us,  that 
anything  is  supreme,  but  itself?  What  can  the  eye, 
when  it  is  opened,  do  more  than  see  ?  But  whether 
we  ought  to  look  upon  the  wife  of  any  one,  and  in 
what  manner,  what  is  it  that  decides  us  ?  The  fac- 
ulty of  Will.  Whether  we  ought  to  believe,  or  dis- 
believe what  is  said  ;  or  whether,  if  we  do  believe,  we 
ought  to  be  moved  by  it,  or  not,  what  is  it  that 
decides  us  ?  Is  it  not  the  faculty  of  Will  ?  Again  ; 
the  very  faculty  of  eloquence,  and  that  which  orna- 
ments discourse,  if  any  such  peculiar  faculty  there 
be,  what  does  it  more  than  merely  ornament  and 
arrange  expressions,  as  curlers  do  the  hair  ?    But 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  170 

whether  it  be  better  to  speak,  or  to  be  silent  i  or 
better  to  speak  in  this,  or  in  that  manner ;  whether 
this  be  decent,  or  indecent ;  and  the  season  and  use 
of  each  ;  what  is  it  that  decides  for  us,  but  the  faculty 
of  Will  ?  What  then,  would  you  have  it  appear,  and 
bear  testimony  against  itself?  What  means  this? 
If  the  case  be  thus,  then  that  which  serves  may  be 
superior  to  that  to  which  it  is  subservient ;  the  horse 
to  the  rider  ;  the  dog  to  the  hunter ;  the  instrument 
to  the  musician ;  or  servants  to  the  king.  What  is 
it  that  makes  use  of  all  the  rest  ?  The  Will.  What 
takes  care  of  all  ?  The  Will.  What  destroys  the 
whole  man,  at  one  time,  by  hunger ;  at  another,  by  a 
rope,  or  a  precipice?  The  Will.  Has  man,  then, 
anything  stronger  than  this  ?  And  how  is  it  possible, 
that  what  is  liable  to  restraint  should  be  stronger  than 
what  is  not  ?  What  has  a  natural  power  to  restrain 
the  faculty  of  sight  ?  The  Will  and  its  workings. 
And  it  is  the  same  with  the  faculties  of  hearing  and 
of  speech.  And  what  has  a  natural  power  of  re- 
straining the  Will  ?  Nothing  beyond  itself,  only  its 
own  perversion.  Therefore  in  the  Will  alone  is  vice : 
in  the  Will  alone  is  virtue. 

Since,  then,  the  Will  is  such  a  faculty,  and  placed 
in  authority  over  all  the  rest,  suppose  it  to  come 
forth  and  say  to  us,  that  the  body  is,  of  all  things, 
the  most  excellent !  If  even  the  body  itself  pro- 
nounced itself  to  be  the  most  excellent,  it  could  not 
be  borne.  But  now,  what  is  it,  Epicurus,  that  pro- 
nounces all  this  ?  What  was  it,  that  composed  vol- 
umes concerning  "  the  End,"  "  the  Nature  of  things," 
11  the  Rule  "  ;  that  assumed  a  philosophic  beard ;  that, 
as  it  was  dying,  wrote,  that  it  was  "  then  spending  its 
last  and  happiest  day  "  ?  *    Was  this  the  body,  or  was 

*  These  words  are  part  of  a  letter  written  by  Epicurus,  when  he  was 


180  THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

it  the  faculty  of  Will  ?  And  can  you,  then,  without 
madness,  admit  anything  to  be  superior  4>o  this? 
Are  you  in  reality  so  deaf  and  blind  ?  What,  then, 
does  any  one  dishonor  the  other  faculties  ?  Heaven 
forbid  !  Does  any  one  assert  that  there  is  no  use  or 
excellence  in  the  faculty  of  sight  ?  Heaven  forbid ! 
It  would  be  stupid,  impious,  and  ungrateful  to  God. 
But  we  render  to  each  its  due.  There  is  some  use 
in  an  ass,  though  not  so  much  as  in  an  ox ;  and  in  a 
dog,  though  not  so  much  as  in  a  servant :  and  in  a 
servant,  though  not  so  much  as  in  the  citizens  ;  and 
in  the  citizens,  though  not  so  much  as  in  the  magis- 
trates. And  though  some  are  more  excellent  than 
others,  those  uses,  which  the  last  afford,  are  not  to 
be  despised.  The  faculty  of  eloquence  has  thus  its 
value,  though  not  equal  to  that  of  the  Will.  When 
therefore  I  talk  thus,  let  not  any  one  suppose,  that  I 
would  have  you  neglect  eloquence,  any  more  than 
your  eyes,  or  ears,  or  hands,  or  feet,  or  clothes,  or 
shoes.  But  if  you  ask  me  what  is  the  most  excellent 
of  things,  what  shall  I  say  ?  I  cannot  say,  eloquence, 
but  a  right  Will ;  for  it  is  this  which  makes  use  of  that, 
and  of  all  the  other  faculties,  whether  great  or  small. 
If  this  be  set  right,  a  bad  man  becomes  good ;  if  it 
be  wrong,  a  good  man  becomes  wicked.  By  this  we 
are  unfortunate  or  fortunate  ;  we  disapprove  or  ap- 
prove each  other.  In  a  word,  it  is  this  which,  ne- 
glected, forms  unhappiness ;  and,  well  cultivated, 
happiness. 

But  to  take  away  the  faculty  of  eloquence,  and  to 
say,  that  it  is  in  reality  nothing,  is  not  only  ungrate- 
ful to  those  who  gave  it,  but  cowardly  too.  For  such 
a  person  seems  to  me  to  be  afraid,  that,  if  there  be 

dying,  to  one  of  his  friends.  Diog.  Laert.  X.  22.  —  C.  The  titles 
previously  given  are  those  of  treatises  by  Epicurus.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  181 

any  such  faculty,  we  may,  on  occasion,  be  compelled 
to  respect  it.  Such  are  they  too,  who  deny  any 
difference  between  beauty  and  deformity.  Was  it 
possible,  then,  to  be  affected  in  the  same  manner 
by  seeing  Thersites,  as  by  Achilles  ;  by  Helen,  as  by 
any  other  woman  ?  These,  also,  are  the  foolish  and 
clownish  notions  of  those  who  are  ignorant  of  the 
nature  of  things ;  and  afraid  that  whoever  perceives 
such  a  difference  must  presently  be  carried  away, 
and  overcome.  But  the  great  point  is  to  leave  to 
each  thing  its  own  proper  faculty  ;  and  then  to  see 
what  the  value  of  that  faculty  is,  to  learn  what  is 
the  principal  thing,  and,  upon  every  occasion,  to 
follow  that,  and  to  make  it  the  chief  object  of  our 
attention  ;  to  consider  other  things  as  trifling  in  com- 
parison with  this,  and  yet,  so  far  as  we  are  able,  not 
to  neglect  even  these.  We  ought,  for  instance,  to 
take  care  of  our  eyes ;  yet  not  as  of  the  principal 
thing,  but  only  on  account  of  that  which  is  principal ; 
because  that  can  no  otherwise  preserve  its  own  nature, 
than  by  making  a  due  estimate  of  the  rest,  and  pre- 
ferring some  to  others.  What  is  the  usual  practice 
then  ?  That  of  a  traveller,  who,  returning  into  his 
own  country,  and  meeting  on  the  way  with  a  good 
inn,  being  pleased  with  the  inn,  should  remain  there. 
Have  you  forgotten  your  intention,  man  ?  You  were 
not  travelling  to  this  place,  but  only  through  it. 
"  But  this  is  a  fine  place.''  And  how  many  other 
fine  inns  are  there,  and  how  many  pleasant  fields, 
yet  they  are  simply  as  a  means  of  passage.  What 
is  the  real  business  ?  To  return  to  your  country ;  to 
relieve  the  anxieties  *  of  your  family ;  to  perform  the 
duties  of  a  citizen ;  to  marry,  have  children,  and  go 
through  the  public  offices.    For  you  did  not  travel 


182  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

in  order  to  choose  the  finest  places ;  but  to  return, 
to  live  in  that  where  you  were  born,  and  of  which 
you  are  appointed  a  citizen. 

Such  is  the  present  case.  Because  by  speech  and 
such  instruction,  we  are  to  perfect  our  education,  and 
purify  our  own  will,  and  rectify  that  faculty  which 
deals  with  things  as  they  appear ;  and,  because,  for 
the  statement  of  theorems,  a  certain  diction,  and  some 
variety  and  subtilty  of  discourse  are  needful ;  many, 
captivated  by  these  very  things,  one  by  diction,  an- 
other by  syllogisms,  a  third  by  convertible  proposi- 
tions, just  as  our  traveller  was  by  the  good  inn,  go 
ho  further  ;  but  sit  down  and  waste  their  lives  shame- 
fully there,  as  if  amongst  the  sirens.  Your  business, 
man,  was  to  prepare  yourself  for  such  use  of  the 
semblances  of  things  as  nature  demands ;  not  to  fail 
in  what  you  seek,  or  incur  what  you  shun  ;  never 
to  be  disappointed  or  unfortunate,  but  free,  unre- 
strained, uncompelled ;  conformed  to  the  Divine  Ad- 
ministration, obedient  to  that;  finding  fault  with  noth- 
ing ;  but  able  to  say,  from  your  whole  soul,  the  verses 
which  begin, 

"  Conduct  me,  Jove ;  and  thou,  O  Destiny."  * 

While  you  have  such  a  business  before  you,  will 
you  be  so  pleased  with  a  pretty  form  of  expression,  or 
a  few  theorems,  as  to  choose  to  stay  and  live  with 
them,  forgetful  of  your  home ;  and  say,  "  They  are 
fine  things ! "  Why,  who  says  they  are  not  fine 
things  ?  But  only  as  a  means ;  as  an  inn.  For 
what  hinders  one  speaking  like  Demosthenes  from 
being  miserable  ?  What  hinders  a  logician  equal  to 
Chrysippus  from  being  wretched,  sorrowful,  envious, 

*  A  Fragment  of  Cleanthes,  quoted  in  full  in  Enchiridion,  c.  52.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  183 

vexed,  unhappy  ?  Nothing.  You  see,  then,  that  these 
are  merely  unimportant  inns,  and  what  concerns  you 
is  quite  another  thing.  When  I  talk  thus  to  some, 
they  suppose  that  I  am  setting  aside  all  care  about 
eloquence,  and  about  theorems ;  but  I  do  not  object 
to  that;  only  the  dwelling  on  these  things  inces- 
santly, and  placing  our  hopes  there.  If  any  one,  by 
maintaining  this,  hurts  his  hearers,  place  me  amongst 
those  hurtful  people  ;  for  I  cannot,  when  I  see  one 
thing  to  be  the  principal  and  most  excellent,  call  an- 
other so,  to  please  you. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

CONCERNING   A   PERSON    WHOM   HE   TREATED    WITH 
DISREGARD. 

WHEN  a  certain  person  said  to  him, "  I  have 
often  come  to  you,  with  a  desire  of  hearing 
you,  and  you  have  never  given  me  any  answer ;  but 
now,  if  possible,  I  entreat  you  to  say  something  to 
me  "  ;  —  do  you  think,  replied  Epictetus,  that,  as  in 
other  things,  so  in  speaking,  there  is  an  art,  by  which 
he,  who  understands  it,  speaks  skilfully,  and  he,  who 
does  not,  unskilfully  ? 

"  I  do  think  so." 

He,  then,  who  by  speaking  both  benefits  himself, 
and  is  able  to  benefit  others,  must  speak  skilfully ; 
but  he  who  injures  and  is  injured,  must  be  unskilful 
in  this  art.  For  you  may  find  some  speakers  injured, 
and  others  benefited.  And,  are  all  hearers  benefited 
by  what  they  hear  ?  Or  will  you  find  some  benefited, 
and  some  hurt  ? 


184  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

"  Both." 

Then  those  who  hear  skilfully  are  benefited,  and 
those  who  hear  unskilfully,  hurt. 

"  Granted." 

Is  there  any  art  of  hearing,  then,  as  well  as  of 
speaking  ? 

"  It  seems  so." 

If  you  please,  consider  it  thus  too.  To  whom  think 
you  that  the  practice  of  music  belongs  ? 

"  To  a  musician." 

To  whom  the  proper  formation  of  a  statue  ? 

"  To  a  sculptor." 

And  do  you  not  imagine  some  art  necessary  even 
to  view  a  statue  skilfully  ? 

"  I  do." 

If,  therefore,  to  speak  properly  belongs  to  one  who 
is  skilful,  do  you  not  see,  that  to  hear  profitably  be- 
longs likewise  to  one  who  is  skilful  ?  For  the  present, 
however,  if  you  please,  let  us  say  no  more  of  doing 
things  perfectly  and  profitably,  since  we  are  both  far 
enough  from  anything  of  that  kind  ;  but  this  seems  to 
be  universally  confessed,  that  he,  who  would  hear  phi- 
losophers, needs  some  kind  of  exercise  in  hearing.  Is 
it  not  so  ?  Tell  me,  then,  on  what  I  shall  speak  to 
you  ?     On  what  subject  are  you  able  to  hear  me  ? 

"  On  good  and  evil." 

The  good  and  evil  of  what  ?    Of  a  horse  ? 

«  No." 

Of  an  ox  ? 

«  No." 

What  then,  of  a  man  ? 

"Yes." 

Do  we  know,  then,  what  man  is  ?  What  is  his  na- 
ture, what  our  idea  of  him,  and  how  far  our  ears  are 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  185 

open  in  this  respect  to  him  ?  Nay,  do  you  under- 
stand what  Nature  is;  or  are  you  able,  in  any  de- 
gree, to  comprehend  me,  when  I  come  to  say,  "  But 
I  must  use  demonstration  to  you  ?  "  How  should 
you  ?  Do  you  comprehend  what  demonstration  is,  or 
how  a  thing  is  demonstrated,  or  by  what  methods ; 
or  what  resembles  a  demonstration,  and  yet  is  not  a 
demonstration  ?  Do  you  know  what  true  or  false  is  ? 
What  is  consequent  upon  anything,  and  what  contra- 
dictory ;  suitable,  or  dissonant  ?  But  I  must  excite 
you  to  study  philosophy.  How  shall  I  show  you  that 
contradiction,  among  the  generality  of  mankind,  by 
which  they  differ  concerning  good  and  evil,  profitable 
and  unprofitable,  when  you  know  not  what  contradic- 
tion means  ?  Show  me,  then,  what  I  shall  gain,  by 
discoursing  with  you  ?  Excite  an  inclination  in  me, 
as  a  proper  pasture  excites  an  inclination  to  eating, 
in  a  sheep :  for  if  you  offer  him  a  stone,  'or  a  piece  of 
bread,  he  will  not  be  excited.  Thus  we  too  have  cer- 
tain natural  inclinations  to  speaking,  when  the  hearer 
appears  to  be  somebody,  when  he  gives  us  encourage- 
ment ;  but  if  he  sits  by,  like  a  stone,  or  a  tuft  of  grass, 
how  can  he  excite  any  desire  in  a  man  ?  Does  a  vine 
say  to  an  husbandman,  "  Take  care  of  me  ?  "  No  ; 
but  invites  him  to  take  care  of  it,  by  showing  him, 
that,  if  he  does,  it  will  reward  him  for  his  care.  Who 
is  there,  whom  bright  and  agreeable  children  do  not 
attract  to  play,  and  creep,  and  prattle  with  them? 
But  who  was  ever  taken  with  an  inclination  to  divert 
himself,  or  bray  with  an  ass  ;  for,  be  the  creature 
ever  so  little,  it  is  still  a  little  ass. 

"  Why  then  do  you  say  nothing  to  me  ?  " 
I  have  only  this  to  say  to  you  ;  that  whoever  is  ut- 
terly ignorant  what  he  is,  and  wherefore  he  was  born, 


186  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

and  in  what  kind  of  a  universe,  and  in  what  society ; 
what  things  are  good,  and  what  evil,  what  fair,  and 
what  base ;  who  understands  neither  discourse,  nor 
demonstration,  nor  what  is  true,  nor  what  is  false, 
nor  is  able  to  distinguish  between  them ;  such  a  one 
will  neither  exert  his  desires,  nor  aversions,  nor  pur- 
suits, conformably  to  Nature ;  he  will  neither  aim, 
nor  assent,  nor  deny,  nor  suspend  his  judgment,  con- 
formably to  Nature ;  but  will  wander  up  and  down, 
entirely  deaf  and  blind,  supposing  himself  to  be  some- 
body, while  he  is  nobody.  Is  there  anything  new  in 
all  this  ?  Is  not  this  ignorance  the  cause  of  all  the 
errors  that  have  happened,  from  the  very  origin  of 
mankind  ?  Why  did  Agamemnon  and  Achilles  dif- 
fer ?  Was  it  not  for  want  of  knowing  what  is  advan- 
tageous, what  disadvantageous  ?  Does  not  one  of 
them  say,  it  is  advantageous- to  restore  Chryseis  to 
her  father ;  the  other,  that  it  is  not  ?  Does  not  one 
say,  that  he  ought  to  take  away  the  prize  of*  the 
Other ;  the  other,  that  he  ought  not  ?  Did  they  not, 
by  these  means,  forget  who  they  were,  and  for  what 
purpose  they  had  come  there  ?  Why,  what  did  you 
come  for,  man  ;  to  win  mistresses,  or  to  fight  ?  — 
"To  fight."  — With  whom;  Trojans  or  Greeks?  — 
"With  the  Trojans.''  —  Leaving  Hector,  then,  do 
you  draw  your  sword  upon  your  own  king  ?  And  do 
you,  good  sir,  forgetting  the  duties  of  a  king, 

"  Intrusted  with  a  nation  and  its  cares,"  * 

go  to  squabbling,  about  a  girl,  with  the  bravest  of 
your  allies;  whom  you  ought,  by  every  method,  to 
conciliate  and  preserve?  And  will  you  be  inferior 
to  a  subtle  priest,  who  pays  his  court  anxiously  to 

*  Homer,  Iliad,  II.  25. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  187 

you  fine  gladiators  ?  —  You  see  the  effects  produced 
by  ignorance  of  what  is  truly  advantageous. 

"  But  I  am  rich,  as  well  as  other  people."  —  What, 
richer  than  Agamemnon  ?  — "  But  I  am  handsome 
too."  —  What,  handsomer  than  Achilles  ?  —  "  But  I 
have  fine  hair  too."  —  Had  not  Achilles  finer  and 
brighter  ?  Yet  he  never  combed  it  exquisitely,  nor 
curled  it.  —  "But  lam  strong  too."  —  Can  you  lift 
such  a  stone,  then,  as  Hector  or  Ajax  ?  —  "  But  I  am 
of  a  noble  family  too."  —  Is  your  mother  a  goddess, 
or  your  father  descended  from  Zeus  ?  And  what 
good  did  all  this  do  Achilles,  when  he  sat  crying 
for  a  girl  ?  —  "  But  I  am  an  orator."  —  And  was  not 
he  ?  Do  you  not  see  how  he  treated  the  most  elo- 
quent of  the  Greeks,  Odysseus  and  Phoenix  ?  How 
he  struck  them  dumb  ?  This  is  all  I  have  to  say  to 
you  ;  and  even  this  against  my  inclination. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

Because  you  have  not  excited  me  to  it.  For  what 
can  I  see  in  you,  to  excite  me,  as  spirited  horses  their 
riders  ?  Your  person  ?  That  you  disfigure.  Your 
dress  ?  That  is  effeminate.  Your  behavior  ?  Your 
look  ?  Absolutely  nothing.  When  you  would  hear 
a  philosopher,  do  not  say  to  him,  "  You  tell  me  noth- 
ing "  ;  but  only  show  yourself  fit  and  worthy  to  hear ; 
and  you  will  find  how  you  will  move  him  to  speak. 


188  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

THAT   LOGIC   IS   NECESSABT. 

WHEN  one  of  the  company  said  to  him,  "  Con- 
vince me  that  logic  is  necessary,"  —  Would 
you  have  me,  he  said,  demonstrate  it  to  you  ?  "  Yes." 
Then  I  must  use  a  demonstrative  form  of  argument. 
"  Granted."  And  how  will  you  know,  then,  whether 
I  argue  sophistically  ?  On  this,  the  man  being  silent, 
You  see,  says  he,  that,  even  by  your  own  confession, 
logic  is  necessary ;  since  without  it,  you  cannot  even 
learn  whether  it  be  necessary  or  not. 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

WHAT   IS    THE   TEST    OF   ERROR. 

EVERY  error  implies  a  contradiction;  for,  since 
he  who  errs  does  not  wish  to  err,  but  to  be  in 
the  right,  it  is  evident,  that  he  acts  contrary  to  his 
wish.  What  does  a  thief  desire  to  attain  ?  His  own 
interest.  If,  then,  thieving  be  really  against  his  inter- 
est he  acts  contrary  to  his  own  desire.  Now  every  ra- 
tional soul  is  naturally  averse  to  self-contradiction  ; 
but  so  long  as  any  one  is  ignorant  that  it  is  a  contra- 
diction, nothing  restrains  him  from  acting  contradic- 
torily ;  but,  whenever  he  discovers  it,  he  must  as 
necessarily  renounce  and  avoid  it,  as  any  one  must 
dissent  from  a  falsehood  whenever  he  perceives  it  to 
be  a  falsehood  ;  only  while  this  does  not  appear,  he 
assents  to  it  as  to  a  truth. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  189 

He,  then,  is  gifted  in  speech,  and  excels  at  once  in 
exhortation  and  conviction,  who  can  disclose  to  each 
man  the  contradiction  by  which  he  errs,  and  prove 
clearly  to  him,  that  what  he  wonld  he  doth  not ;  and 
what  he  would  not,  that  he  doth.  For,  if  that  be 
shown,  he  will  depart  from  it  of  his  own  accord  ;  but, 
till  you  have  shown  it,  be  not  surprised  that  he  re- 
mains where  he  is  ;  for  he  proceeds  on  the  semblance 
of  acting  rightly.  Hence  Socrates,  relying  on  this  fac- 
ulty, used  to  say,  "  It  is  not  my  custom  to  cite  any 
other  witness  for  my  assertions ;  but  I  am  always 
contented  with  my  opponent.  I  call  and  summon 
him  for  my  witness  ;  and  his  single  evidence  serves 
instead  of  all  others."  For  he  knew  that,  if  a  ra- 
tional soul  be  moved  by  anything,  the  scale  must 
turn,  whether  it  will  or  no.  Show  the  governing  fac- 
ulty of  Reason  a  contradiction,  and  it  will  renounce 
it ;  but  till  you  have  shown  it,  rather  blame  yourself 
than  him  who  remains  unconvinced. 


BOOK   III. 

CHAPTER    I. 

OF   PERSONAL   ADORNMENT. 

A  CERTAIN  young  rhetorician  coming  to  him 
with  his  hair  too  elaborately  ornamented,  and 
his  dress  very  fine ;  tell  me,  said  Epictetus,  whether 
you  do  not  think  some  horses  and  dogs  beautiful ; 
and  so  of  all  other  animals  ? 

"I  do." 

Are  some  men,  then,  likewise  beautiful,  and  others 
deformed  ? 

"  Certainly." 

Do  we  pronounce  all  these  beautiful  the  same  way 
then,  or  each  in  some  way  peculiar  to  itself?  You 
will  judge  of  it  by  this  ;  since  we  see  a  dog  naturally 
formed  for  one  thing,  a  horse  for  another,  and  a 
nightingale,  for  instance,  for  another,  therefore  in 
general,  it  will  be  correct  to  pronounce  each  of  them 
beautiful,  so  far  as  it  is  developed  suitably  to  its  own 
nature  ;  but,  since  the  nature  of  each  is  different,  I 
think  each  of  them  must  be  beautiful  in  a  different 
way.     Is  it  not  so  ? 

"  Agreed." 

Then  what  makes  a  dog  beautiful  makes  a  horse 
deformed  ;  and  what  makes  a  horse  beautiful  makes 
a  dog  deformed  ;  if  their  natures  are  different. 

"  So  it  seems." 

For,  I  suppose,  what  makes  a  good  Pancratiast* 

*  These  are  the  names  of  combatants  in  the  Olympic  games.    A 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  191 

makes  no  good  wrestler,  and  a  very  ridiculous  racer ; 
and  the  very  same  person  who  appears  well  as  a  Pen- 
tathlete,  might  make  a  very  ill  figure  in  wrestling. 

"  Very  true." 

What,  then,  makes  a  man  beautiful  ?  Is  it  on  the 
same  principle  that  a  dog  or  a  horse  is  beautiful  ? 

"  The  same." 

What  is  it  then,  that  makes  a  dog  beautiful  ? 

"  That  excellence  which  belongs  to  a  dog." 

What  a  horse  ? 

"  The  excellence  of  a  horse." 

What  a  man  ?  Must  it  not  be  the  excellence  be- 
longing to  a  man  ?  If  then  you  would  appear  beau- 
tiful, young  man,  strive  for  human  excellence. 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

Consider  whom  you  praise,  when  unbiassed  by  par- 
tiality ;  is  it  the  honest  or  dishonest  ? 

"  The  honest." 

The  sober,  or  the  dissolute  ? 

"  The  sober." 

The  temperate,  or  the  intemperate  ? 

"  The  temperate." 

Then,  if  you  make  yourself  such  a  character,  you 
know  that  you  will  make  yourself  beautiful ;  but, 
while  you  neglect  these  things,  though  you  use  every 
contrivance  to  appear  beautiful,  you  must  necessa- 
rily be  deformed. 

I  know  not  how  to  say  anything  further  to  you ; 
for  if  I  speak  what  I  think,  you  will  be  vexed,  and 
perhaps  go  away  and  return  no  more.  And  if  I  do 
not  speak,  consider  what  I  am  doing.     You  come  to 

Pancratiast  was  one  who  united  the  exercises  of  wrestling  and  box- 
ing. A  Pentathlete,  one  who  contended  on  all  the  five  games  of  leap- 
ing, running,  throwing  the  discus,  darting,  and  wrestling.  —  C. 


I 
192  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

me  to  be  improved,  and  I  do  not  improve  you  ;  and 
you  come  to  me  as  to  a  philosopher,  and  I  do  not 
speak  like  a  philosopher.  Besides,  how  could  it  be 
consistent  with  my  duty  towards  yourself,  to  pass 
you  by  as  incorrigible  ?  If,  hereafter,  you  should 
come  to  have  sense,  you  will  accuse  me  with  rea- 
son :  "  What  did  Epictetus  observe  in  me,  that,  when 
he  saw  me  come  to  him  in  such  a  shameful  condition, 
he  overlooked  it,  and  never  said  so  much  as  a  word 
about  it  ?  Did  he  so  absolutely  despair  of  me  ?  Was 
I  not  young  ?  Was  I  not  able  to  hear  reason  ?  How 
many  young  men,  at  that  age,  are  guilty  of  many 
such  errors  ?  I  am  told  of  one  Polemo,  who,  from 
a  most  dissolute  youth,  became  totally  changed.* 
Suppose  he  did  not  think  I  should  become  a  Polemo, 
he  might  nevertheless  have  set  my  locks  to  rights, 
he  might  have  stripped  off  my  bracelets  and  rings, 
he  might  have  prevented  my  depilating  my  person. 
But  when  he  saw  me  dressed  like  a  —  what  shall  I 
say?  —  he  was  silent."  I  do  not  say  like  what; 
when  you  come  to  your  senses,  you  will  say  it 
yourself,  and  will  know  what  it  is,  and  who  they 
are  who  adopt  such  a  dress. 

If  you  should  hereafter  lay  this  to  my  charge,  what 
excuse  could  I  make  ?  "Ay ;  but  if  I  do  speak,  he 
will  not  regard  me."  Why,  did  Laius  regard  Apollo  ? 
Did  not  he  go  and  get  intoxicated,  and  bid  farewell  to 
the  oracle  ?  What  then  ?  Did  this  hinder  Apollo 
from  telling  him  the  truth  ?  Now,  I  am  uncertain, 
whether  you  will  regard  me,  or  not ;  but  Apollo  posi- 
tively knew,  that  Laius  would  not  regard  him,  and 
yet  he  spoke. f     And  why  did  he  speak  ?     You  may 

*  By  accidentally  visiting  the  school  of  Xenocrates.  —  H. 

t  Laius,  kiDg  of  Thebes,  petitioned  Apollo  for  a  son.     The  oracle 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  193 

as  well  ask,  why  is  he  Apollo ;  why  doth  he  deliver 
oracles ;  why  hath  he  placed  himself  in  such  a  post 
as  a  prophet,  and  the  fountain  of  truth,  to  whom  the 
inhabitants  of  the  world  should  resort  ?  Why  is  know 
thyself  inscribed  on  the  front  of  his  temple,  when  no 
one  heeds  it  ? 

Did  Socrates  prevail  upon  all  who  came  to  him,  to 
take  care  of  themselves  ?  Not  upon  the  thousandth 
part ;  but  being,  as  he  himself  declares,  divinely  ap- 
pointed to  such  a  post,  he  never  deserted  it.  What 
said  he  even  to  his  judges  ?  "  If  you  would  acquit 
me,  on  condition  that  I  should  no  longer  act  as  I  do 
now,  I  would  not  accept  it,  nor  desist ;  but  I  will  ac- 
cost all  I  meet,  whether  young  or  old,  and  interrogate 
them  in  just  the  same  manner;  but  particularly  you, 
my  fellow-citizens,  since  you  are  more  nearly  related 
to  me."  —  "Are  you  so  curious  and  officious,  Socra- 
tes ?  What  is  it  to  you,  how  we  act  ?  "  —  "  What  say 
you  ?  While  you  are  of  the  same  community  and  the 
same  kindred  with  me,  will  you  be  careless  of  your- 
self, and  show  yourself  a  bad  citizen  to  the  city,  a  bad 
kinsman  to  your  kindred,  and  a  bad  neighbor  to  your 
neighborhood  ?  "  —  "  Why,  who  are  you  ?  "  Here 
one  ought  nobly  to  say,  "  I  am  he  who  ought  to  take 
care  of  mankind. "  For  it  is  not  every  little  paltry 
heifer  that  dares  resist  the  lion  ;  but  if  the  bull 
should  come  up,  and  resist  him,  would  you  say  to 
him,  "  Who  are  you  ?  What  business  is  it  of 
yours  l"  In  every  species,  man,  there  is  some  one 
quality  which  by  nature  excels ;  in  oxen,  in  dogs, 
in  bees,  in  horses.  Do  not  say  to  whatever  excels, 
uWho  are  you?"     If  you  do,  it  will,  somehow  or 

answered  him,  that  if  Laius  became  a  father,  he  should  perish  by  the 
hand  of  his  son.     The  prediction  was  fulfilled  by  GEdipus.  —  C. 
13 


194  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

other,  find  a  voice  to  tell  you  ;  "  I  am  like  the  purple 
thread  in  a  garment.  Do  not  expect  me  to  be  like 
the  rest ;  nor  find  fault  with  my  nature,  which  has 
distinguished  me  from  others. " 

"  What  then,  am  I  such  a  one  ?  How  should  I 
be  ?  "  Indeed,  are  you  such  a  one  as  to  be  able  to 
hear  the  truth?  I  wish  you  were.  But  however, 
since  I  am  condemned  to  wear  a  gray  beard  and  a 
cloak,  and  you  come  to  me  as  a  philosopher,  I  will 
not  treat  you  cruelly,  nor  as  if  I  despaired  of  you ; 
but  will  ask  you,  Who  is  it,  young  man,  whom  you 
would  render  beautiful  ?  Know,  first,  who  you  are  ; 
and  then  adorn  yourself  accordingly. 

You  are  a  human  being ;  that  is,  a  mortal  animal, 
capable  of  a  rational  use  of  things  as  they  appear. 
And  -what  is  this  rational  use  ?  A  perfect  conformity 
to  Nature.  What  have  you,  then,  particularly  excel- 
lent ?  Is  it  the  animal  part  ?  No.  The  mortal  ? 
No.  That  which  is  capable  of  the  mere  use  of  these 
things?  No.  The  excellence  lies  in  the  rational 
part.  Adorn  and  beautify  this  ;  but  leave  your  hair 
to  Him  who  formed  it  as  he  thought  good. 

Well ;  what  other  appellations  have  you  ?  Are  you 
a  man,  or  a  woman  ?  A  man.  Then  adorn  yourself 
as  a  man,  not  as  a  woman.  A  woman  is  naturally 
smooth  and  delicate  ;  and,  if  hairy,  is  a  monster,  and 
shown  among  the  monsters  at  Rome.  It  is  the  same 
thing  in  a  man,  not  to  be  hairy ;  and,  if  he  is  by  na- 
ture not  so,  he  is  a  monster.  But  if  he  depilates 
himself,  what  shall  we  do  with  him  ?  Where  shall 
we  show  him ;  and  how  shall  we  advertise  him  ? 
"  A  man  to  be  seen,  who  would  rather  be  a  woman." 
What  a  scandalous  show !  Who  would  not  wonder  at 
such  an  advertisement  ?     I  believe,  indeed,  that  these 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  195 

very  persons  themselves  would ;  not  apprehending, 
that  it  is  the  very  thing  of  which  they  are  guilty. 

Of  what  have  you  to  accuse  your  nature,  sir,  that 
it  has  made  you  a  man  ?  Why,  were  all  to  be  born 
women  then  ?  In  that  case  what  would  have  been 
the  use  of  your  finery  ?  For  whom  would  you  have 
made  yourself  fine,  if  all  were  women  ?  But  the 
whole  affair  displeases  you.  Go  to  work  upon  the 
whole  then.  Remove  your  manhood  itself,  and  make 
yourself  a  woman  entirely,  that  we  may  be  no  longer 
deceived,  nor  you  be  half  man,  half  woman.  To 
whom  would  you  be  agreeable  ?  To  the  women  ? 
Be  agreeable  to  them  as  a  man. 

"  Ay  ;  but  they  are  pleased  with  fops." 

Go  hang  yourself.  Suppose  they  were  pleased 
with  every  debauchery,  would  you  consent  ?  Is  this 
your  business  in  life  ?  Were  you  born  to  please  dis- 
solute women  ?  Shall  we  make  such  a  one  as  you, 
in  the  Corinthian  republic  for  instance,  governor  of 
the  city,  master  of  the  youth,  commander  of  the 
army,  or  director  of  the  public  games  ?  Will  you 
pursue  the  same  practices  when  you  are  married? 
For  whom,  and  for  what  ?  Will  you  be  the  father  of 
children,  and  introduce  them  into  the  state,  such  as 
yourself?  0  what  a  fine  citizen,  and  senator,  and 
orator  !  Surely,  young  man,  we  ought  to  pray  for  a 
succession  of  young  men  disposed  and  bred  like  you ! 

Now,  when  you  have  once  heard  this  discourse,  go 
home,  and  say  to  yourself,  It  is  not  Epictetus  who 
has  told  me  all  these  things,  —  for  how  should  he  ?  — 
but  some  propitious  God  through  him ;  for  it  would 
never  have  entered  the  head  of  Epictetus,  who  is  not 
used  to  dispute  with  any  one.  Well ;  let  us  obey 
God  then,  that  we  may  not  incur  the  Divine  displeas- 


196  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

ure.  If  a  crow  has  signified  anything  to  you  by  his 
croaking,  it  is  not  the  crow  that  signifies  it,  but  God, 
through  him.  And,  if  you  have  anything  signified 
to  you  through  the  human  voice,  doth  He  not  cause 
that  man  to  tell  it  to  you,  that  you  may  know  the 
Divine  power  which  acts  thus  variously,  and  signifies 
the  greatest  and  principal  things  through  the  noblest 
messenger?  What  else  does  the  poet  mean,  when 
he  says, 

"  Since  we  forewarned  him, 
Sending  forth  Hermes,  watchful  Argicide, 
Neither  to  slay,  —  nor  woo  another's  wife."  * 

Hermes,  descending  from  heaven,  was  to  warn  him ; 
and  the  Gods  now,  likewise,  send  a  Hermes  the 
Argicide  as  messenger  to  warn  you,  not  to  invert 
the  well-appointed  order  of  things,  nor  be  absorbed 
in  fopperies ;  but  suffer  a  man  to  be  a  man,  and  a 
woman  to  be  a  woman ;  a  beautiful  man,  to  be  beau- 
tiful, as  a  man ;  a  deformed  man,  to  be  deformed,  as 
a  man ;  for  your  personality  lies  not  in  flesh  and 
hair,  but  in  the  Will.  If  you  take  care  to  have  this 
beautiful,  you  will  be  beautiful.  But  all  this  while, 
I  dare  not  tell  you,  that  you  are  deformed  ;  for  I 
fancy  you  would  rather  hear  anything  than  this. 
But  consider  what  Socrates  says  to  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  blooming  of  all  men,  Alcibiades.  "  Endeavor 
to  make  yourself  beautiful."  What  does  he  mean 
to  say  to  him  ?  "  Curl  your  locks,  and  depilate  your 
legs  ?  "  Heaven  forbid  !  But  rather,  "  Regulate  your 
Will ;  throw  away  your  wrong  principles." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  poor  body  then  ?  " 
Leave  it  to  nature.     Another  hath  taken  care  of 
such  things.     Give  them  up  to  Him. 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  I.  37. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  197 

"  What,  then,  must  one  be  a  sloven  ?  " 
By  no  means ;  but  act  in  conformity  to  your  na- 
ture. A  man  should  care  for  his  body,  as  a  man ; 
a  woman,  as  a  woman  ;  a  child,  as  .a  child.  If  not, 
let  us  pick  out  the  mane  of  a  lion,  that  he  may  not 
be  slovenly ;  and  th'e  comb  of  a  cock,  for  he  too 
should  be  tidy.  Yes,  but  let  it  be  as  a  cock;  and 
a  lion,  as  a  lion ;  and  a  hound,  as  a  hound. 


CHAPTER    II. 

IN  WHAT  A  WELL-TRAINED  MAN  SHOULD  EXERCISE 
HIMSELF;  AND  THAT  WE  NEGLECT  THE  PRINCIPAL 
THINGS. 

THERE  are  three  topics  in  philosophy,  in  which 
he  who  would  be  wise  and  good  must  be  exer- 
cised. That  of  the  desires  and  aversions,  that  he  may 
not  be  disappointed  of  the  one,  nor  incur  the  other. 
That  of  the  pursuits  and  avoidances,  and,  in  general, 
the  duties  of  life ;  that  he  may  act  with  order  and 
consideration,  and  not  carelessly.  The  third  includes 
integrity  of  mind  and  prudence,  and,  in  general, 
whatever  belongs  to  the  judgment.  ■ 

Of  these  points,  the  principal  and  most  urgent  is 
that  which  reaches  the  passions ;  for  passion  is  pro- 
duced no  otherwise  than  by  a  disappointment  of  one's 
desires  and  an  incurring  of  one's  aversions.  It  is  this 
which  introduces  perturbations,  tumults,  misfortunes, 
and  calamities  ;  this  is  the  spring  of  sorrow,  lamenta- 
tion, and  envy  ;  this  renders  us  envious  and  emulous, 
and  incapable  of  hearing  reason. 

The  next  topic  regards  the  duties  of  life.     For  I 


198  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

am  not  to  be  undisturbed  by  passions,  in  the  same 
sense  as  a  statue  is ;  but  as  one  who  preserves  the 
natural  and  acquired  relations  ;  as  a  pious  person,  as 
a  son,  as  a  brother,  as  a  father,  as  a  citizen. 

The  third  topic  belongs  to  those  scholars  who  are 
now  somewhat  advanced ;  and  is  a  security  to  the 
other  two,  that  no  bewildering  semblance  may  sur- 
prise us,  either  in  sleep,  or  wine,  or  in  depression. 
This,  say  you,  is  beyond  us.  Yet  our  present  philos- 
ophers, leaving  the  first  and  second  topics,  employ 
themselves  wholly  about  the  third  ;  dealing  in  the 
logical  subtilties.  For  they  say  that  we  must,  by 
engaging  in  these  subjects,  take  care  to  guard  against 
deception.  Who  must  ?  A  wise  and  good  man.  Is 
this  really,  then,  the  thing  you  need  ?  Have  you  mas- 
tered the  other  points  ?  Are  you  not  liable  to  be  de- 
ceived by  money  ?  When  you  see  a  fine  girl,  do  you 
oppose  the  seductive  influence  ?  If  your  neighbor  in- 
herits an  estate,  do  you  feel  no  vexation  ?  Is  it  not 
steadfastness  which  you  chiefly  need  ?  You  learn 
even  these  very  things,  slave,  with  trembling,  and  a 
solicitous  dread  of  contempt ;  and  are  inquisitive  to 
know  what  is  said  of  you.  And  if  any  one  comes 
and  tells  you  that,  in  a  dispute  as  to  which  was  the 
best  of  the  philosophers,  one  of  the  company  named 
a  certain  person  as  the  only  philosopher,  that  little 
soul  of  yours  grows  to  the  size  of  two  cubits  instead 
of  an  inch.  But  if  another  comes  and  says,  "  You 
are  mistaken,  he  is  not  worth  hearing ;  for  what  does 
he  know  ?  He  has  the  first  rudiments,  but  nothing 
more  "  ;  you  are  thunderstruck  ;  you  presently  turn 
pale,  and  cry  out,  "I  will  show  what  I  am;  that  I 
am  a  great  philosopher."  You  exhibit  by  these  very 
things  what  you  are  aiming  to  show  in  other  ways. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  199 

Do  not  you  know  that  Diogenes  exhibited  some  soph- 
ist in  this  manner,  by  pointing  with  his  middle  fin- 
ger;* and  when  the  man  was  mad  with  rage,  "  This," 
said  Diogenes,  "  is  the  very  man  ;  I  have  exhibited 
him  to  you."  For  a  man  is  not  shown  by  the  finger 
in  the  same  sense  as  a  stone,  or  a  piece  of  wood,  but 
whoever  points  out  his  principles,  shows  him  as  a 
man. 

Let  us  see  your  principles  too.  For  is  it  not  evi- 
dent that  you  consider  your  own  Will  as  nothing: 
but  are  always  aiming  at  something  beyond  its  reach  ? 
As,  what  such  a  one  will  say  of  you,  and  what  you 
shall  be  thought ;  whether  a  man  of  letters  ;  whether 
to  have  read  Chrysippus,  or  Antipater ;  and  if  Arche- 
demus  too,  you  have  everything  you  wish.  Why  are 
you  still  solicitous,  lest  you  should  not  show  us  what 
you  are  ?  Shall  I  tell  you,  what  you  have  shown 
yourself?  A  mean,  discontented,  passionate,  cow- 
ardly person ;  complaining  of  everything ;  accusing 
everybody ;  perpetually  restless ;  good  for  nothing. 
This  you  have  shown  us.  Go  now  and  read  Arche- 
demus ;  and  then,  if  you  hear  but  the  noise  of  a 
mouse,  you  are  a  dead  man ;  for  you  will  die  some 
such  kind  of  death  as  —  Who  was  it  ?  Crinis ;  f  who 
valued  himself  extremely  too,  that  he  understood  Ar- 
chedemus. 

Wretch,  why  do  you  not  let  alone  things  that  do 
not  belong  to  you  ?  These  things  belong  to  such  as 
are  able  to  learn  them  without  perturbation ;  who 
can  say,  "  I  am  not  subject  to  anger,  or  grief,  or 

*  Extending  the  middle  finger,  with  the  ancients,  was  a  mark  of 
the  greatest  contempt.  —  C. 

t  Crinis  was  a  Stoic  philosopher.  The  circumstances  of  his  death 
are  not  now  known.  —  C. 


200  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

envy.  I  am  not  restrained ;  I  am  not  compelled. 
What  remains  for  me  to  do  ?  I  am  at  leisure  ;  I  am 
at  ease.  Let  us  now  see  how  logical  inversions  are 
to  be  treated ;  let  us  consider,  when  an  hypothesis  is 
laid  down,  how  we  may  avoid  a  contradiction."  To 
such  persons  do  these  things  belong.  They  who  are 
safe  may  light  a  fire,  go  to  dinner,  if  they  please,  and 
sing  and  dance  ;  but  you  are  for  spreading  sail  just 
when  your  ship  is  going  down. 


CHAPTER    III. 

WHAT  IS  THE   CHIEF    CONCERN   OF   A   GOOD   MAN  ;   AND    IN 
WHAT  WE  CHIEFLY  OUGHT  TO  TRAIN  OURSELVES. 

THE  chief  concern  of  a  wise  and  good  man  is  his 
own  Reason.  The  body  is  the  concern  of  a  phy- 
sician, and  of  a  gymnastic  trainer ;  and  the  fields,  of 
the  husbandman.  The  business  of  a  wise  and  good 
man  is,  to  use  the  phenomena  of  existence,  conform- 
ably to  Nature.  Now,  every  soul,  as  it  is  naturally 
formed  for  an  assent  to  truth,  a  dissent  from  false- 
hood, and  a  suspense  of  judgment  with  regard  to 
things  uncertain ;  so  it  is  moved  by  a  desire  of  good, 
an  aversion  from  evil,  and  an  indifference  to  what  is 
neither  good  nor  evil.  For,  as  a  money-changer,  or 
a  gardener,  is  not  at  liberty  to  reject  Caesar's  coin ; 
but  when  once  it  is  shown,  is  obliged,  whether  he 
will  or  not,  to  deliver  his  wares  in  exchange  for  it ; 
so  is  it  with  the  soul.  Apparent  good  at  first  sight 
attracts,  and  evil  repels.  Nor  will  the  soul  any  more 
reject  an  evident  appearance  of  good,  than  Caesar's 
coin. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  201 

Hence  depends  every  movement,  both  of  God  and 
man ;  and  hence  good  is  preferred  to  every  obliga- 
tion, however  near.  My  connection  is  not  with  my 
father ;  but  with  good.  —  Are  you  so  hard-hearted  ?  — 
Such  is  my  nature,  and  such  is  the  coin  which  God 
hath  given  me.  If  therefore  good  is  interpreted  to 
be  anything  but  what  is  fair  and  just,  away  go  father, 
and  brother,  and  country,  and  everything.  What! 
Shall  I  overlook  my  own  good,  and  give  it  up  to 
you?  For  what?  "I  am  your  father."  But  not 
my  good.  "  I  am  your  brother."  But  not  my  good. 
But,  if  we  place  it  in  a  rightly  trained  Will,  good  must 
then  consist  in  an  observance  of  the  several  relations 
of  life ;  and  then,  he  who  gives  up  mere  externals, 
acquires  good.  Your  father  deprives  you  of  your 
money ;  but  he  does  not  hurt  you.  He  will  possess 
more  land  than  you,  as  much  more  as  he  pleases ; 
but  will  he  possess  more  honor?  More  fidelity? 
More  affection  ?  Who  can  deprive  you  of  this  pos- 
session ?  Not  even  Zeus ;  for  he  did  not  will  it  so, 
since  he  has  put  this  good  into  my  own  power,  and 
given  it  me,  like  his  own,  uncompelled,  unrestrained, 
and  unhindered.  But  when  any  one  deals  in  coin 
different  from  this,  then  whoever  shows  it  to  him,  may 
have  whatever  is  sold  for  it,  in  return.  A  thievish 
proconsul  comes  into  the  province.  What  coin  does 
he  use  ?  Silver.  Show  it  him,  and  carry  off  what 
you  please.  An  adulterer  comes.  What  coin  does 
he  use  ?  Women.  Take  the  coin,  says  one,  and  give 
me  this  trifle.  "  Give  it  me,  and  it  is  yours."  An- 
other is  addicted  to  other  debauchery ;  give  him  but 
his  coin,  and  take  what  you  please.  Another  is  fond 
of  hunting ;  give  him  a  fine  pony  or  puppy,  and 
he  will  sell  you  for  it  what  you  will,  though  it  be 


202  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

with  sighs  and  groans.  For  there  is  that  within 
which  controls  him,  and  assumes  this  to  be  current 
coin. 

In  this  manner  ought  every  one  chiefly  to  train 
himself.  When  you  go  out  in  the  morning,  examine 
whomsoever  you  see,  or  hear  ;  and  answer  as  if  to  a 
question.  What  have  you  seen  ?  A  handsome  per- 
son ?  Apply  the  rule.  Is  this  a  thing  controllable 
by  Will,  or  uncontrollable  ?  Uncontrollable.  Then 
discard  it.  What  have  you  seen  ?  One  in  agony  for 
the  death  of  a  child.  Apply  the  rule.  Death  is  inev- 
itable. Banish  this  despair  then.  Has  a  consul  met 
you  ?  Apply  the  rule.  What  kind  of  thing  is  the 
consular  office  ?  Controllable  by  Will,  or  uncon- 
trollable ?  Uncontrollable.  Throw  aside  this  too. 
It  will  not  pass.     Cast  it  away.     It  is  nothing  to  you. 

If  we  acted  thus,  and  practised  in  this  manner 
from  morning  till  night,  by  Heaven,  something  would 
be  done.  Whereas  now,  on  the  contrary,  we  are 
allured  by  every  semblance,  half  asleep  ;  and,  if  we 
ever  awake,  it  is  only  a  little  in  the  school ;  but 
as  soon  as  we  go  out,  if  we  meet  any  one  grieving, 
we  say,  "  He  is  undone.''  IT  a  consul,  "  How  happy 
is  he  ! "  If  an  exile,  "  How  miserable."  If  a  poor 
man,  "  How  wretched  ;  he  has  nothing  to  eat ! " 

These  miserable  prejudices  then  are  to  be  lopped 
off;  and  here  is  our  whole  strength  to  be  applied. 
For  what  is  weeping  and  groaning?  Prejudice. 
What  is  misfortune  ?  Prejudice.  What  is  sedition, 
discord,  complaint,  accusation,  impiety,  levity  ?  All 
these  are  prejudices,  and  nothing  more ;  and  preju- 
dices concerning  things  uncontrollable  by  Will,  as  if 
they  could  be  either  good  or  evil.  Let  any  one 
transfer  these  convictions  to  things  controllable  by 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  203 

Will,  and  I  will  engage  that  he  will  preserve  his 
constancy,  whatever  be  the  state  of  things  about  him. 
The  soul  is  like  a  vase  filled  with  water;  while 
the  semblances  of  things  fall  like  rays  upon  its  sur- 
face. If  the  water  is  moved,  the  ray  will  seem  to 
be  moved  likewise,  though  it  is  in  reality  without 
motion.  When,  therefore,  any  one  is  seized  with 
a  giddiness  in  his  head,  it  is  not  the  arts  and  virtues 
that  are  bewildered,  but  the  mind  in  which  they  lie  ; 
when  this  recovers  its  composure,  so  will  they  like- 
wise. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CONCERNING    ONE    WHO    MADE   HIMSELF   IMPROPERLY 
CONSPICUOUS    IN   THE    THEATRE. 

WHEN  the  Governor  of  Epirus  had  exerted  him- 
self with  improper  eagerness  in  favor  of  a 
comedian,  and  was  upon  that  account  publicly  railed 
at ;  and,  when  he  came  to  hear  it,  was  highly  dis- 
pleased with  those  who  railed  at  him  ;  Why,  what 
harm,  said  Epictetus,  have  these  people  done  ?  They 
have  shown  favoritism  ;  which  is  just  what  you  did. 

"  Is  this  a  proper  manner  then,  of  expressing  their 
favor  ?  " 

Seeing  you,  their  governor,  and  the  friend  and 
vicegerent  of  Caesar,  express  it  thus,  was  it  not  to  be 
expected  that  they  would  express  it  thus  too  ?  For, 
if  this  zealous  favoritism  is  not  right,  do  not  show  it 
yourself  ;  and  if  it  is,  why  are  you  angry  at  them  for 
imitating  you  ?  For  whom  have  the  many  to  imitate, 
but  you,  their  superiors  ?  From  whom  are  they  to 
take  example,  when  they  come  into  the  theatre,  but 


204  THE   DISCOUKSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

from  you  ?  "  Do  but  look  how  Caesar's  vicegerent 
sees  the  play?  Has  he  cried  out?  I  will  cry  out 
too.  Has  he  leaped  up  from  his  seat  ?  I  too  will 
leap  up  from  mine.  Do  his  slaves  sit  in  different 
parts  of  the  house,  making  an  uproar?  I  indeed 
have  no  slaves ;  but  I  will  make  as  much  uproar  as 
I  can  unaided." 

You  ought  to  consider,  then,  that  when  you  appear 
in  the  theatre,  you  appear  as  a  rule  and  example  to 
others,  how  they  ought  to  see  the  play.  Why  is  it 
that  they  have  railed  at  you?  Because  every  man 
hates  what  hinders  him.  They  would  have  one  actor 
crowned ;  you,  another.  They  hindered  you ;  and 
you  them.  You  proved  the  stronger.  They  have 
done  what  they  could  ;  they  have  railed  at  the  person 
who  hindered  them.  •  What  would  you  have,  then  ? 
Would  you  do  as  you  please,  and  not  have  them 
even  talk  as  they  please  ?  Where  is  the  wonder  of 
all  this?  Does  not  the  husbandman  rail  at  Zeus 
when  he  is  hindered  by  him  ?  Does  not  the  sailor  ? 
Do  men  ever  cease  railing  at  Caesar  ?  What  then,  is 
Zeus  ignorant  of  this  ?  Are  not  the  things  that  are 
said  reported  to  Caesar  ?  How  then  does  he  act  ?  He 
knows  that,  if  he  were  to  punish  all  railers,  he  would 
have  nobody  left  to  command. 

When  you  enter  the  theatre,  then,  ought  you  to 
say,  "  Come,  let  Sophron  be  crowned  ?  "  No.  But 
rather,  "  Come,  let  me  at  this  time  regulate  my  Will 
in  a  manner  conformable  to  Nature.  No  one  is 
dearer  to  me  than  myself.  It  is  ridiculous,  then, 
that  because  another  man  gains  the  victory  as  a 
player,  I  should  be  hurt.  Whom  do  I  wish  to  gain 
the  victory  ?  Him  who  does  gain  it ;  and  thus  he 
will  always  be  victorious  whom  I  wish  to  be  so."  — 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  205 

"  But  I  would  have  Sophron  crowned."  —  Why,  cele- 
brate as  many  games  as  you  will  at  your  own  house, 
Nemean,  Pythian,  Isthmian,  Olympic,  and  proclaim 
him  victor  in  all ;  but  in  public  do  not  arrogate  more 
than  your  due,  nor  seek  to  monopolize  what  belongs 
to  all ;  or  if  otherwise,  bear  to  be  railed  at,  for  if  you 
act  like  the  mob,  you  reduce  yourself  to  an  equality 
with  them. 


CHAPTER    V. 


CONCERNING    THOSE    WHO    PLEAD     SICKNESS. 

"  T  AM  sick  here,"  said  one  of  the  scholars.     "  I 


i 


will  return  home." 
Were  you  never  sick  at  home  then  ?  Consider 
whether  you  are  doing  anything  here  conducive  to 
the  regulation  of  your  Will ;  for  if  you  make  no  im- 
provement, it  was  to  no  purpose  that  you  came.  Go 
home  then,  and  take  care  of  your  domestic  affairs. 
For  if  your  Reason  cannot  be  brought  into  conformity 
to  nature,  your  land  may.  You  may  increase  your 
money,  support  the  old  age  of  your  father,  mix  in 
the  public  assemblies,  and  rule  as  badly  as  you  have 
lived,  and  do  other  such  things.  But  if  you  are  con- 
scious to  yourself  that  you  are  casting  off  some  of 
your  wrong  principles,  and  taking  up  different  ones 
in  their  room,  and  that  you  have  transferred  your 
scheme  of  life  from  things  not  controllable  by  will  to 
those  controllable ;  and  that  if  you  do  sometimes  cry 
alas,  it  is  not  for  what  concerns  your  father,  or  your 
brother,  but  yourself;  why  do  you  any  longer  plead 
sickness  ?  Do  not  you  know  that  both  sickness  and 
death  must  overtake  us  ?     At  what  employment  ? 


206  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

The  husbandman  at  his  plough ;  the  sailor  on  his 
voyage.  At  what  employment  would  you  be  taken  ? 
For,  indeed,  at  what  employment  ought  you  to  be  ta- 
ken ?  If  there  is  any  better  employment  at  which  you 
can  be  taken,  follow  that.  For  my  own  part,  I  would 
be  found  engaged  in  nothing  but  in  the  regulation  of 
my  own  Will ;  how  to  render  it  undisturbed,  unre- 
strained, uncompelled,  free.  I  would  be  found  study- 
ing this,  that  I  may  be  able  to  say  to  God,  "  Have  I 
transgressed  Thy  commands  ?  Have  I  perverted  the 
powers,  the  senses,  the  instincts,  which  Thou  hast 
given  me  ?  Have  I  ever  accused  Thee,  or.  censured 
Thy  dispensations  ?  I  have  been  sick,  because  it  was 
Thy  pleasure,  like  others;  but  I  willingly.  I  have 
been  poor,  it  being  Thy  will ;  but  with  joy.  I  have 
not  been  in  power,  because  it  was  not  Thy  will ;  and 
power  I  have  never  desired.  Hast  Thou  ever  seen 
me  saddened  because  of  this?  Have  I  not  always 
approached  Thee  with  a  cheerful  countenance ;  pre- 
pared to  execute  Thy  commands  and  the  indications 
of  Thy  will  ?  Is  it  Thy  pleasure  that  I  should  de- 
part from  this  assembly  ?  I  depart.  I  give  Thee  all 
thanks  that  Thou  hast  thought  me  worthy  to  have  a 
share  in,  it  with  Thee ;  to  behold  Thy  works,  and  to 
join  with  Thee  in  comprehending  Thy  administra- 
tion. "  Let  death  overtake  me  while  I  am  thinking, 
while  I  am  writing,  while  I  am  reading  such  things 
as  these. 

"  But  I  shall  not  have  my  mother  to  hold  my  head 
when  I  am  sick." 

Get  homo  then  to  your  mother ;  for  you  are  most 
fit  to  have  your  head  held  when  you  are  sick. 

"  But  I  used  at  home  to  lie  on  a  fine  couch.' ' 

Get  to  this  couch  of  yours ;  for  you  are  fit  to  lie 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  207 

upon  such  a  one,  even  in  health ;  so  do  not  miss 
doing  that  for  which  you  are  qualified.  But  what 
says  Socrates  ?  "As  one  man  rejoices  in  the  improve- 
ment of  his  estate,  another  of  his  horse,  so  do  I  daily 
rejoice  in  perceiving  myself  to  grow  better."  * 

"  In  what  ?  In  pretty  speeches  ?  " 

Use  courteous  words,  man. 

"  In  trifling  theorems  ?  What  do  they  signify  ? 
Yet,  indeed,  I  do  not  see  that  the  philosophers  are 
employed  in  anything  else." 

Do  you  think  it  nothing,  to  accuse  and  censure 
no  one,  God  nor  man  ?  Always  to  carry  abroad 
and  bring  home  the  same  countenance  ?  These  were 
the  things  which  Socrates  knew  ;  and  yet  he  never 
professed  to  know,  or  to  teach  anything ;  but  if  any 
one  wanted  pretty  speeches,  or  little  theorems,  he 
brought  him  to  Protagoras,  to  Hippias ;  just  as,  if 
any  one  had  come  for  potherbs,  lie  would  have  taken 
him  to  a  gardener.  Which  of  you,  then,  earnestly 
sets  his  heart  on  this  ?  If  you  had,  you  would  bear 
sickness  and  hunger  and  death  with  cheerfulness. 
If  any  one  of  you  has  truly  loved,  he  knows  that  I 
speak  truth. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

HEN  he  was  asked,  how  it  came  to  pass,  that 
though  the  art  of  reasoning  might  be  now 
more  studied,  yet  the  improvements  made  were  for- 
merly greater  ?  In  what  instance,  answered  he,  is  it 
now  more  studied ;  and  in  what  were  the  improve- 

*  Xenophon,  Mem.  I.  6.  —  H. 


W 


208  THE   DISCOUESES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

ments  greater  ?  For  in  what  now  is  most  studied, 
in  that  will  be  found  likewise  the  improvements. 
The  present  study  is  the  solution  of  syllogisms,  and 
in  this  improvements  are  made.  But  formerly  the 
study  was  to  harmonize  the  Reason  with  Nature; 
and  improvement  was  made  in  that.  Therefore  do 
not  confound  things,  nor,  when  you  study  one  thing, 
expect  improvement  in  another ;  but  see  whether  any 
one  of  us,  who  applies  himself  to  think  and  act  con- 
formably to  Nature,  ever  fails  of  improvement.  De- 
pend upon  it,  you  will  not  find  one. 

A  good  man  is  invincible  ;  for  he  does  not  contend 
where  he  is  not  superior.  If  you  would  have  his 
land,  take  it ;  take  his  servants,  take  his  office,  take 
his  body.  But  you  will  never  frustrate  his  desire, 
nor  make  him  incur  his  aversion.  He  engages  in  no 
combat  but  what  concerns  objects  within  his  own 
control.     How  then  can  he  fail  to  be  invincible  ? 

Being  asked,  what  common  sense  was,  he  an- 
swered :  As  that  may  be  called  a  common  ear  which 
distinguishes  only  sounds,  but  that  which  distinguishes 
notes,  an  artistic  one  ;  so  there  are  some  things  which 
men,  not  totally  perverted,  discern  by  their  common 
natural  powers ;  and  such  a  disposition  is  called  com- 
mon sense. 

It  is  not  easy  to  gain  the  attention  of  effeminate 
young  men,  —  for  you  cannot  take  up  custard  by  a 
hook,  —  but  the  ingenuous,  even  if  you  discourage 
them,  are  the  more  eager  for  learning.  Hence  Ru- 
fus,  for  the  most  part,  did  discourage  them ;  and 
made  use  of  that  as  a  criterion  of  the  ingenuous  and 
disingenuous.  For,  he  used  to  say,  as  a  stone,  even 
if  you  throw  it  up,  will,  by  its  own  propensity  be  car- 
ried downward,  so  an  ingenuous  mind,  the  more  it  is 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  209 

forced  from  its  natural  bent,  will  incline  towards  it 
the  more  strongly. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

CONCERNING  A   CERTAIN    GOVERNOR   WHO   WAS   AN 
EPICUREAN. 

WHEN  the  Governor,  who  was  an  Epicurean, 
came  to  him ;  "  It  is  fit,"  said  he,  "  that  we 
ignorant  people  should  inquire  of  you  philosophers 
what  is  the  most  valuable  thing  in  the  world;  as 
those  who  come  into  a  strange  city  do  of  the  citizens, 
and  such  as  are  acquainted  with  it ;  that,  after  this 
inquiry,  we  may  go  and  take  a  view  of  it,  as  they  do 
in  cities.  Now,  almost  every  one  admits  that  there 
are  three  things  belonging  to  man,  —  soul,  body,  and 
externals.  It  belongs  to  such  as  you  to  answer  which 
is  the  best.  What  shall  we  tell  mankind  ?  Is  it  the 
flesh  ?" 

And  was  it  for  this  that  Maximus  took  a  voyage  in 
winter  as  far  as  Cassiope  to  accompany  his  son  ?  Was 
it  to  gratify  the  flesh  ? 

"No,  surely." 

Is  it  not  fit,  then,  to  study  what  is  best  ? 

"  Yes,  beyond  all  other  things." 

What  have  we,  then,  better  than  flesh? 

"  The  soul." 

Are  we  to  prefer  the  good  of  the  better,  or  of  the 
worse  ? 

"  Of  the  better." 

Does  the  good  of  the  soul  consist  in  things  control- 
lable by  Will,  or  uncontrollable  ? 

14 


210  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

"  In  tilings  controllable." 

Does  the  pleasure  of  the  soul  then  depend  on  the 
Will? 

"It  does." 

And  whence  does  this  pleasure  arise  ?  From  it- 
self? This  is  unintelligible.  For  there  must  exist 
some  principal  essence  of  good,  in  the  attainment 
of  which,  we  shall  enjoy  this  pleasure  of  the  soul. 

"  This  too  is  granted." 

In  what  then  consists  this  pleasure  of  the  soul  ?  If 
it  be  in  mental  objects,  the  essence  of  good  is  found. 
For  it  is  impossible  that  good  should  lie  in  one  thing, 
and  rational  enjoyment  in  another ;  or  that,  if  the 
cause  is  not  good,  the  effect  should  be  good.  For,  to 
make  the  effect  reasonable,  the  cause  must  be  good. 
But  this  you  cannot  reasonably  allow ;  for  it  would 
be  to  contradict  both  Epicurus  and  the  rest  of  your 
principles.  It  remains  then,  that  the  pleasures  of 
the  soul  must  consist  in  bodily  objects ;  and  that 
there  must  be  the  cause  and  the  essence  of  good. 
Maximus,  therefore,  did  foolishly,  if  he  took  a  voy- 
age for  the  sake  of  anything  but  his  body ;  that  is, 
for  the  sake  of  what  is  best.  A  man  does  foolishly, 
too,  if  he  refrains  from  what  is  another's,  when  he  is 
a  judge  and  able  to  take  it.  We  should  consider  only 
this,  if  you  please,  how  it  may  be  done  secretly  and 
safely,  and  so  that  no  one  may  know  it.  For  Epicu- 
rus himself  does  not  pronounce  stealing  to  be  evil, 
only  the  being  found  out  in  it ;  and  prohibits  it  for 
no  other  reason,  but  because  it  is  impossible  to  insure 
ourselves  against  discovery.  But  I  say  to  you  that, 
if  it  be  done  dexterously  and  cautiously,  we  shall  not 
be  discovered.  Besides  we  have  powerful  friends  of 
both  sexes  at  Rome ;  and  the  Greeks  are  weak ;  and 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  211 

nobody  will  dare  to  go  up  to  Rome  on  such  an  affair. 
Why  do  you  refrain  from  your  own  proper  good  ? 
It  is  madness ;  it  is  folly.  But  if  you  were  to  tell  me 
that  you  do  refrain,  I  would  not  believe  you.  For,  as 
it  is  impossible  to  assent  to  an  apparent  falsehood,  or  to 
deny  an  apparent  truth,  so  it  is  impossible  to  abstain 
from  an  apparent  good.  Now,  riches  are  a  good ; 
and,  indeed,  the  chief  instrument  of  pleasures.  Why 
do  not  you  acquire  them  ?  And  why  do  not  we  cor- 
rupt the  wife  of  our  neighbor,  if  it  can  be  done  se- 
cretly? And  if  the  husband  should  happen  to  be 
impertinent,  why  not  cut  his  throat  too,  if  you  have 
a  mind  to  be  such  a  philosopher  as  you  ought  to  be,  a 
complete  one,  —  to  be  consistent  with  your  own  prin- 
ciples. Otherwise  you  will  not  differ  from  us  who 
are  called  Stoics.  For  we,  too,  say  one  thing  and  do 
another ;  we  talk  well  and  act  ill ;  but  you  will  be 
perverse  in  a  contrary  way,  teaching  bad  principles, 
and  acting  well. 

For  Heaven's  sake  represent  to  yourself  a  city  of 
Epicureans.  "  I  do  not  marry."  "  Nor  I.  For  we 
are  not  to  marry  nor  have  children ;  nor  to  engage 
in  public  affairs."  What  will  be  the  consequence  of 
this  ?  Whence  are  the  citizens  to  come  ?  Who  will 
educate  them  ?  Who  will  be  the  governor  of  the 
youth  ?  Who  the  master  of  their  exercises  ?  What 
then  will  he  teach  them  ?  Will  it  be  what  used  to  be 
taught  at  Athens,  or  Lacedemon  ?  Take  a  young 
man;  bring  him  up  according  to  your  principles. 
These  principles  are  wicked,  subversive  of  a  state, 
pernicious  to  families,  nor  becoming  even  to  women. 
Give  them  up,  sir.  You  live  in  a  capital  city.  You 
are  to  govern  and  judge  uprightly,  and  to  refrain 
from  what  belongs  to  others.     No  one's  wife  or  child, 


212  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

or  silver  or  gold  plate,  is  to  have  any  charms  for  you, 
except  your  own.  Provide  yourself  with  principles 
consonant  to  these  truths  ;  and,  setting  out  thence, 
you  will  with  pleasure  refrain  from  things  so  persua- 
sive to  mislead  and  conquer.  But,  if  to  their  own 
persuasive  force,  we  can  add  such  a  philosophy  as 
hurries  us  upon  them,  and  confirms  us  in  them,  what 
will  be  the  consequence  ? 

In  a  sculptured  vase,  which  is  the  best ;  the  silver, 
or  the  workmanship  ?  In  the  hand  the  substance  is 
flesh ;  but  its  operations  are  the  principal  thing. 
Accordingly,  its  functions  are  threefold ;  relating  to 
its  existence,  to  the  manner  of  its  existence,  and  to  its 
principal  operations.  Thus,  likewise,  do  not  set  a 
value  on  the  mere  materials  of  man,  the  flesh ;  but  on 
the  principal  operations  which  belong  to  him. 

"  What  are  these  ?  " 

Engaging  in  public  business,  marrying,  the  pro- 
duction of  children,  the  worship  of  God,  the  care  of 
parents,  and,  in  general,  the  regulation  of  our  desires 
and  aversions,  our  pursuits  and  avoidances,  in  accord- 
ance with  our  nature. 

"  What  is  our  nature  ?  " 

To  be  free,  noble  spirited,  modest.  For  what  other 
animal  blushes  ?  What  other  has  the  idea  of  shame  ? 
But  pleasure  must  be  subjected  to  these,  as  an  attend- 
ant and  handmaid,  to  call  forth  our  activity,  and  to 
keep  us  constant  in  natural  operations. 

"  But  I  am  rich  and  want  nothing." 

Then  why  do  you  pretend  to  philosophize  ?  Your 
gold  and  silver  plate  is  enough  for  you.  What  need 
have  you  of  principles  ? 

"  Besides,  I  am  Judge  of  the  Greeks." 

Do  you  know  how  to  judge  ?  Who  has  imparted 
this  knowledge  to  you  ? 


THE   DISCOUKSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  213 

"  Caesar  has  given  me  a  commission." 

Let  him  give  you  a  commission  to  judge  of  music ; 
what  good  will  it  do  you  ?  But  how  were  you  made 
a  Judge  ?  Whose  hand  have  you  kissed  ?  That  of 
Symphorus,  or  Numenius  ?  Before  whose  door  have 
you  slept  ?  To  whom  have  you  sent  presents  ?  After 
all,  do  you  uot  perceive  that  the  office  of  Judge  puts 
you  in  the  same  rank  with  Numenius  ? 

"  But  I  can  throw  whom  I  please  into  a  prison." 

So  you  may  a  stone. 

"  But  I  can  beat  whom  I  will  too." 

So  you  may  an  ass.  This  is  not  a  government  over 
men.  Govern  us  like  reasonable  creatures.  Show 
us  what  is  best  for  us,  and  we  will  pursue  it ;  show 
us  what  is  otherwise,  and  we  will  avoid  it.  Like  Soc- 
rates, make  us  imitators  of  yourself.  He  was  prop- 
erly a  governor  of  men,  who  controlled  their  desires 
and  aversions,  their  pursuits,  their  avoidances.  "  Do 
this ;  do  not  that,  or  I  will  throw  you  into  prison." 
This  is  not  a  government  for  reasonable  creatures. 
But  "Do  as  Zeus  hath  commanded,  or  you  will  be 
punished,  and  be  a  loser." 

"  What  shall  I  lose  ?  " 

Simply  your  own  right  action,  your  fidelity,  hon- 
or, decency.  You  can  find  no  losses  greater  than 
these. 


214  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

HOW   WE   ARE   TO    EXERCISE    OURSELVES   AGAINST   THE 
SEMBLANCES    OF   THINGS. 

IN  the  same  manner  as  we  exercise  ourselves  against 
sophistical  questions,  we  should  exercise  ourselves 
likewise  in  relation  to  such  semblances  as  every  day 
occur ;  for  these,  too,  offer  questions  to  us.  Such  a 
one's  son  is  dead.  What  think  you  of  it  ?  Answer  ; 
it  is  a  thing  inevitable,  and  therefore  not  an  evil. 
Such  a  one  is  disinherited  by  his  father.  What  think 
you  of  it?  It  is  inevitable,  and  so  not  an  evil.  Caesar 
has  condemned  him.  This  is  inevitable,  and  so  not 
an  evil.  He  has  been  afflicted  by  it.  This  is  control- 
lable by  Will ;  it  is  an  evil.  He  has  supported  it 
bravely.  This  is  within  the  control  of  Will ;  it  is  a 
good. 

If  we  train  ourselves  in  this  manner  we  shall  make 
improvement ;  for  we  shall  never  assent  to  anything 
but  what  the  semblance  itself  includes.  A  son  is 
dead.  What  then  ?  A  son  is  dead.  Nothing  more  ? 
Nothing.  A  ship  is  lost.  What  then?  A  ship  is 
lost.  He  is  carried  to  prison.  What  then  ?  He  is 
carried  to  prison.  That  he  is  unhappy  is  an  addition 
that  every  one  must  make  for  himself.  "  But  Zeus 
does  not  order  these  things  rightly."  Why  so.  Be- 
cause he  has  made  you  to  be  patient  ?  Because  he 
lias  made  you  to  be  brave  ?  Because  he  has  made 
them  to  be  no  evils?  Because  it  is  permitted  you, 
while  you  suffer  them,  to  be  happy  ?  Because  he  has 
opened  you  the  door  whenever  they  do  not  suit  you  ? 
Go  out,  man,  and  do  not  complain  ! 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  215 

If  you  would  know  how  the  Romans  treat  philoso- 
phers, hear.  Italicus,  esteemed  one  of  the  greatest 
philosophers  among  them,  being  in  a  passion  with  his 
own  people,  when  I  was  by,  said,  as  if  he  had  suffered 
some  intolerable  evil,  "  I  cannot  bear  it ;  you  are  the 
ruin  of  me  ;  you  will  make  me  just  like  him  "  ;  point- 
ing to  me. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

CONCERNING   A    CERTAIN     ORATOR,    WHO    WAS     GOING  TO 
ROME    ON   A   LAWSUIT. 

A  PERSON  came  to  him  who  was  going  to  Rome 
on  a  lawsuit  in  which  his  dignity  was  concerned  ; 
and,  after  telling  him  the  occasion  of  his  journey, 
asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  affair  ?  If  you  ask 
me,  says  Epictetus,  what  will  happen  to  you  at  Rome, 
and  whether  you  shall  gain  or  lose  your  cause,  I  have 
no  suggestion  as  to  that.  But  if  you  ask  me,  how 
you  shall  fare  ;  I  can  answer,  If  you  have  right  prin- 
ciples, well;  if  wrong  ones,  ill.  For  every  action 
turns  upon  its  principle.  What  was  the  reason  that 
you  so  earnestly  desired  to  be  chosen  Governor  of  the 
Gnossians  ?  Principle.  What  is  the  reason  that  you 
are  now  going  to  Rome  ?  Principle.  And  in  winter 
too  ;  and  with  danger,  and  expense  ?  Why,  because 
it  is  necessary.  What  tells  you  so  ?  Your  principle. 
If,  then,  principles  are  the  source  of  all  our  actions, 
wherever  any  one  has  bad  principles  the  effect  will 
correspond  to  the  cause.  Well  then ;  are  all  our 
principles  sound  ?  Are  both  yours  and  your  antago- 
nist's ?  How  then  do  you  differ  ?  Or  are  yours  better 
than  his  ?     Why  ?     You  think  so  ;  and  so  thinks  he 


216  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

of  his  ;  and  so  do  madmen.  This  is  a  bad  criterion. 
But  show  me  that  you  have  given  some  attention  and 
care  to  your  principles.  As  you  now  take  a  voyage 
to  Rome  for  the  government  of  the  Gnossians,  and 
are  not  contented  to  stay  at  home  with  the  honors 
you  before  enjoyed,  but  desire  something  greater  and 
more  illustrious ;  did  you  ever  take  such  a  voyage 
in  order  to  examine  your  own  principles,  and  to  throw 
away  the  bad  ones,  if  you  happened  to  have  any? 
Did  you  ever  apply  to  any  one  upon  this  account  ? 
What  time  did  you  ever  appoint  to  yourself  for 
it  ?  What  age  ?  Run  over  your  years.  If  you  are 
ashamed  of  me,  do  it  for  yourself.  Did  you  examine 
your  principles  when  you  were  a  child  ?  Did  not  you 
act  then  as  now  ?  When  you  were  a  youth,  and  fre- 
quented the  schools  of  the  orators,  and  yourself  made 
declamations,  did  you  ever  imagine  that  you  were 
deficient  in  anything  ?  And  when  you  became  a  man, 
and  entered  upon  public  business,  pleaded  causes, 
and  acquired  credit,  whom  did  you  then  recognize  as 
your  equal?  How  would  you  have  borne  that  any 
one  should  examine  whether  your  principles  were 
bad  ?     What,  then,  would  you  have  me  say  to  you  ? 

"  Assist  me  in  this  affair." 

I  have  no  suggestion  to  offer  for  that.  Neither 
are  you  come  to  me,  if  it  be  upon  that  account  you 
came,  as  to  a  philosopher  ;  but  as  you  would  come  to 
an  herb-seller  or  a  shoemaker. 

"  For  what  purposes,  then,  can  the  philosophers 
give  suggestions  ?  " 

For  preserving  and  conducting  the  Reason  con- 
formably to  Nature,  whatever  happens.  Do  you  think 
this  a  small  thing  ? 

"  No  ;  but  the  greatest." 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  217 

Well ;  and  does  it  require  but  a  short  time  ?  and 
may  it  be  taken  as  you  pass  by  ?  If  you  can,  take  it 
then ;  and  so  you  will  say,  "  I  have  visited  Epicte- 
tus."  Ay;  just  as  you  would  visit  a  stone  or  a 
statue.  For  you  have  seen  me,  and  nothing  more. 
But  he  visits  a  man,  as  a  man,  who  learns  his  prin- 
ciples ;  and,  in  return,  shows  his  own.  Learn  my 
principles.  Show  me  yours.  Then  say  you  have 
visited  me.  Let  us  confute  each  other.  If  I  have 
any  bad  principle,  take  it  away.  If  you  have  any, 
bring  it  forth.  This  is  visiting  a  philosopher.  No  ; 
but  "  It  lies  in  our  way ;  and,  while  we  are  about 
hiring  a  ship,  we  may  call  on  Epictetus.  Let  us  see 
what  he  says.'*  And  then  when  you  are  gone,  you 
say  "  Epictetus  is  nothing.  His  language  was  inaccu- 
rate, was  barbarous."  For  what  else  did  you  come 
to  criticise  ?  "  Well ;  but  if  I  employ  myself  in  these 
things,  I  shall  be  without  an  estate,  like  you ;  with- 
out plate,  without  equipage,  like  you."  Nothing, 
perhaps,  is  necessary  to  be  said  to  this,  but  that  I  do 
not  want  them.  But,  if  you  possess  many  things,  you 
still  want  others  ;  so  that  whether  you  will  or  not, 
you  are  poorer  than  I. 

"  What  then  do  I  need  ?  " 

What  you  have  not ;  constancy ;  a  mind  conform- 
able to  Nature  ;  and  a  freedom  from  perturbation. 
Patron,  or  no  patron,  what  care  I  ?  But  you  do.  I 
am  richer  than  you.  I  am  not  anxious  what  Caesar 
will  think  of  me.  I  flatter  no  one  on  that  account. 
This  I  have,  instead  of  silver  and  gold  plate.  You 
have  your  vessels  of  gold  ;  but  your  discourse,  your 
principles,  your  opinions,  your  pursuits,  your  desires, 
are  of  mere  earthen  ware.  When  I  have  all  these 
conformable  to  Nature,  why  should  not  I  bestow 


218  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

some  study  upon  my  reasoning  too  ?  I  am  at  leisure. 
My  mind  is  under  no  distraction.  In  this  freedom 
from  distraction,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Have  I  anything 
more  becoming  a  man  than  this  ?  You,  when  you 
have  nothing  to  do,  are  restless ;  you  go  to  the  thea- 
tre, or  perhaps  to  bathe.  Why  should  not  the  phi- 
losopher polish  his  reasoning  ?  You  have  fine  crystal 
and  myrrhine  vases ;  *  I  have  acute  forms  of  argu- 
ing. To  you,  all  you  have  appears  little ;  to  me  all 
I  have  seems  great.  Your  appetite  is  insatiable ; 
mine  is  satisfied.  When  children  thrust  their  hand 
into  a  narrow  jar  of  nuts  and  figs,  if  they  fill  it,  they 
cannot  get  it  out  again ;  then  they  begin  crying. 
Drop  a  few  of  them,  and  you  will  get  out  the  rest. 
And  do  you  too  drop  your  desire ;  do  not  demand 
much,  and  you  will  attain. 


CHAPTER    X. 

IN   WHAT   MANNER   WE    OUGHT    TO    BEAR    SICKNESS. 

WE  should  have  all  our  principles  ready  for  use 
-  on  every  occasion.  At  dinner,  such  as  relate 
to  dinner  ;  in  the  bath,  such  as  relate  to  the  bath ;  in 
the  bed,  such  as  relate  to  the  bed. 

"  Let  not  the  stealing  god  of  sleep  surprise, 
Nor  creep  in  slumbers  on  thy  weary  eyes, 

*  "  And  how  they  quaff  in  gold, 
Crystal  and  myrrhine  cups,  imbossed  with  gems." 

Paradise  Regained,  IV.  181. 

Myrrhine  cups  were  probably  a  kind  of  agate  described  by  Pliny, 
which,  when  burnt,  had  the  smell  of  myrrh.  See  Teatro  Critico, 
Tom.  6,  disc.  4,  §  6.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  219 

Ere  every  action  of  the  former  day 

Strictly  thou  dost,  and  righteously  survey. 

What  have  I  done  ?     In  what  have  I  transgressed  1 

What  good,  or  ill,  has  this  day's  life  expressed  1 

Where  have  I  failed,  in  what  I  ought  to  do  ? 

If  evil  were  thy  deeds,  repent  and  mourn, 

If  good,  rejoice."  * 

We  should  retain  these  verses  so  as  to  apply  them 
to  our  use ;  not  merely  to  say  them  by  rote,  as  we 
do  with  verses  in  honor  of  Apollo. 

Again ;  in  a  fever,  we  should  have  such  principles 
ready  as  relate  to  a  fever ;  and  not,  as  soon  as  we 
are  taken  ill,  forget  all.  Provided  I  do  but  act  like 
a  philosopher,  let  what  will  happen.  Some  way  or 
other  depart  I  must  from  this  frail  body,  whether  a 
fever  comes  or  not.  What  is  it  to  be  a  philosopher  ? 
Is  it  not  to  be  prepared  against  events  ?  Do  you  not 
comprehend  that  you  then  say,  in  effect,  "  If  I  am  but 
prepared  to  bear  all  events  with  calmness,  let  what 
will  happen  "  ;  otherwise,  you  are  like  an  athlete, 
who,  after  receiving  a  blow,  should  quit  the  combat. 
In  that  case,  indeed,  you  might  leave  off  without  a 
penalty.  But  what  shall  we  get  by  leaving  off  phi- 
losophy ? 

What,  then,  ought  each  of  us  to  say  upon  every  dif- 
ficult occasion ?  "It  was  for  this  that  I  exercised  ; 
it  was  for  this  that  I  trained  myself."  God  says  to 
you,  give  me  a  proof  if  you  have  gone  through  the 
preparatory  combats  according  to  rule ;  if  you  have 
followed  a  proper  diet  and  proper  exercise ;  if  you 
have  obeyed  your  master ;  —  and,  after  this,  do  you 
faint  at  the  very  time  of  action  ? 

*  Pythagoras,  Golden  Verses,  40-44.  This  is  Kowe's  translation, 
as  quoted  by  Mrs.  Carter,  but  not  precisely  as  given  in  Dacier's  Py- 
thagoras (London,  1707),  p.  165.  — H. 


220  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

Now  is  your  time  for  a  fever.  Bear  it  well.  For 
thirst ;  bear  it  well.  For  hunger ;  bear  it  well.  Is  it 
not  in  your  power  ?  Who  shall  restrain  you  ?  A  phy- 
sician may  restrain  you  from  drinking ;  but  he  cannot 
restrain  you  from  bearing  your  thirst  well.  He  may 
restrain  you  from  eating  ;  but  he  cannot  restrain  you 
from  bearing  hunger  well.  "  But  I  cannot  follow  my 
studies."  And  for  what  end  do  you  follow  them, 
slave  ?  Is  it  not  that  you  may  be  prosperous  ?  That 
you  may  be  constant?  that  you  may  think  and  act 
conformably  to  Nature?  What  restrains  you,  but 
that,  in  a  fever,  you  may  keep  your  Reason  in  har- 
mony with  Nature  ?  Here  is  the  test  of  the  matter. 
Here  is  the  trial  of  the  philosopher  ;  for  a  fever  is  a 
part  of  life,  as  is  a  walk,  a  voyage,  or  a  journey.  Do 
you  read  when  you  are  walking  ?  No  ;  nor  in  a  fever. 
But  when  you  walk  well,  you  attend  to  what  belongs 
to  a  walker ;  so,  if  you  bear  a  fever  well,  you  have 
everything  belonging  to  one  in  a  fever.  What  is  it  to 
bear  a  fever  well  ?  Not  to  blame  either  God  or  man  ; 
not  to  be  afflicted  at  what  happens  ;  to  await  death  in 
a  right  and  becoming  manner ;  and  to  do  what  is  to 
be  done.  When  the  physician  enters,  not  to  dread 
what  he  may  say  ;  nor,  if  he  should  tell  you  that  you 
are  doing  well,  to  be  too  much  rejoiced  ;  for  what  good 
has  he  told  you  ?  When  you  were  in  health,  what 
good  did  it  do  you  ?  Not  to  be  dejected  when  he  tells 
you  that  you  are  very  ill ;  for  what  is  it  to  be  very  ill  ? 
To  be  near  the  separation  of  soul  and  body.  What 
harm  is  there  in  this,  then  ?  If  you  are  not  near  it 
now,  will  you  not  be  near  it  hereafter  ?  What,  will 
the  world  be  quite  overturned  when  you  die  ?  Why, 
then,  do  you  flatter  your  physician  ?  Why  do  you 
say,  "  If  you  please,  sir,  I  shall  do  well "  ?    Why 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  221 

do  you  furnish  an  occasion  to  his  pride  ?  Why  do 
not  you  treat  a  physician,  with  regard  to  an  insignif- 
icant body, —  which  is  not  yours,  but  by  nature  mor- 
tal, —  as  you  do  a  shoemaker  about  your  foot,  or  a 
carpenter  about  a  house  ?  It  is  the  season  for  these 
things,  to  one  in  a  fever.  If  he  fulfils  these,  he  has 
what  belongs  to  him.  For  it  is  not  the  business  of  a 
philosopher  to  take  care  of  these  mere  externals,  of  his 
wine,  his  oil,  or  his  body ;  but  of  his  Reason.  And 
how  with  regard  to  externals  ?  Not  to  behave  incon- 
siderately about  them. 

What  occasion  is  there,  then,  for  fear?  What 
occasion  for  anger,  for  desire,  about  things  that  be- 
long to  others,  or  are  of  no  value  ?  For  two  rules  we 
should  always  have  ready,  —  that  there  is  nothing  good 
or  evil  save  in  the  Will;  and  that  we  are  not  to  lead 
events,  but  to  follow  them.  "  My  brother  ought  not  to 
have  treated  me  so.,,  Yery  true ;  but  he  must  see 
to  that.  However  he  treats  me,  I  am  to  act  rightly 
with  regard  to  him ;  for  the  one  is  my  own  concern, 
the  other  is  not;  the  one  cannot  be  restrained,  the 
other  may. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

THERE  are  some  punishments  appointed,  as  by  a 
law,  for  such  as  disobey  the  Divine  administra- 
tion. Whoever  shall  esteem  anything  good,  except 
what  depends  on  the  Will,  let  him  envy,  let  him 
covet,  let  him  natter,  let  him  be  full  of  perturbation. 
Whoever  esteems  anything  else  to  be  evil,  let  him 
grieve,  let  him  mourn,  let  him  lament,  let  him  bo 


222  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETTJS. 

wretched.     And  yet,  though  thus  severely  punished, 
we  cannot  desist. 

Remember  what  the  poet  says,  of  a  guest. 

"  It  were  not  lawful  to  affront  a  guest, 
Even  did  the  worst  draw  nigh."  * 

This,  too,  you  should  be  prepared  to  say  with  re- 
gard to  a  father,  It  is  not  lawful  for  me  to  affront 
you,  father,  even  if  a  worse  than  you  had  come ;  for 
all  are  from  paternal  Zeus.  And  so  of  a  brother; 
for  all  are  from  kindred  Zeus.  And  thus  we  shall 
find  Zeus  to  be  the  superintendent  of  all  the  other 
relations. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

OP  TRAINING. 

WE  are  not  to  carry  our  training  beyond  Nature 
and  Reason ;  for  thus  we,  who  call  ourselves 
philosophers,  shall  not  differ  from  jugglers.  For  it  is 
no  doubt  difficult  to  walk  upon  a  rope ;  and  not  only 
difficult,  but  dangerous.  Ought  we  too,  for  that  rea- 
son, to  make  it  our  study  to  walk  upon  a  rope,  or 
balance  a  pole,f  or  grasp  a  statue  ?  J  By  no  means. 
It  is  not  everything  difficult  or  dangerous  that  is  a 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  XIV.  54.  — H. 

t  A  phrase  occurs  here,  which  has  greatly  puzzled  the  commenta- 
tors, but  which  evidently  refers  to  the  gymnastic  exercise  known  as 
the  "  perche-pole,"  where  a  pole  is  balanced  by  one  performer  and 
ascended  by  another.  —  H. 

{  Diogenes  used,  in  winter,  to  grasp  statues,  when  they  were  cov- 
ered with  snow,  as  an  exercise,  to  inure  himself  to  hardship.  Dio- 
genes Laertius.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  223 

proper  training;  but  such  things  as  are  conducive 
to  what  lies  before  us  to  do. 

"  And  what  is  it  that  lies  before  us  to  do  ?  " 

To  have  our  desires  and  aversions  free  from  re- 
straint. 

"  How  is  that  ?  " 

Not  to  be  disappointed  of  our  desire,  nor  incur  our 
aversion.  To  this  ought  our  training  to  be  directed. 
*For,  without  vigorous  and  steady  training,  it  is  not 
possible  to  preserve  our  desire  undisappointed  and 
our  aversion  unincurred  ;  and,  therefore,  if  we  suffer 
it  to  be  externally  employed  on  things  uncontrollable 
by  Will,  be  assured  that  your  desire  will  neither  gain 
its  object,  nor  your  aversion  avoid  it. 

And  because  habit  has  a  powerful  influence,  and 
we  are  habituated  to  apply  our  desire  and  aversion 
to  externals  only,  we  must  oppose  one  habit  to  an- 
other ;  and  where  the  semblances  are  most  treacher- 
ous, there  oppose  the  force  of  training.  I  am  inclined 
to  pleasure.  I  will  bend  myself,  even  unduly,  to  the 
other  side,  as  a  matter  of  training.  I  am  averse  to 
pain.  I  will  strive  and  wrestle  with  these  semblances, 
that  I  may  cease  to  shrink  from  any  such  object.  For 
who  is  truly  in  training  ?  He  who  endeavors  totally 
to  control  desire,  and  to  apply  aversion  only  to  things 
controllable  by  Will,  and  strives  for  it  most  in  the 
most  difficult  cases.  Hence  different  persons  are  to 
be  trained  in  different  ways.  What  signifies  it,  to  this 
purpose,  to  balance  a  pole,  or  to  go  about  with  tent 
and  implements  [of  exhibition]  ?  If  you  are  hasty, 
man,  let  it  be  your  training  to  bear  ill  language 
patiently ;  and,  when  you  are  affronted,  not  to  be 
angry.  Thus,  at  length,  you  may  arrive  at  such  a 
proficiency  as,  when  any  one  strikes  you,  to  say  to 


224  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

yourself,  "  Let  me  suppose  this  to  be  like  grasping  a 
statue."  Next,  train  yourself  to  make  but  a  moder- 
ate use  of  wine,  —  not  to  drink  a  great  deal,  to  which 
some  are  so  foolish  as  to  train  themselves,  —  but  to 
abstain  from  this  first ;  and  then  to  abstain  from 
women  and  from  gluttony.  Afterwards  you  will  ven- 
ture into  the  lists  at  some  proper  season,  by  way  of 
trial,  if  at  all,  to  see  whether  these  semblances  get 
the  better  of  you,  as  much  as  they  used  to  do.  But,' 
at  first,  fly  from  what  is  stronger  than  you.  The  con- 
test between  a  fascinating  woman  and  a  young  man 
just  initiated  into  philosophy  is  unequal.  The  brass 
pot  and  the  earthen  pitcher,  as  the  fable  says,  are  an 
unfair  match. 

Next  to  the  desires  and  aversions,  is  the  second 
class,  of  the  pursuits  and  avoidances ;  that  they  may 
be  obedient  to  reason ;  that  nothing  may  be  done  im- 
properly, in  point  of  time  and  place,  or  in  any  other 
respect. 

The  third  class  relates  to  the  faculty  of  assent  and 
to  what  is  plausible  and  persuasive.  As  Socrates 
said,  that  we  are  not  to  lead  a  life,  which  is  not 
tested,  so  neither  are  we  to  admit  an  untested  sem- 
blance )  but  to  say,  "  Stop  ;  let  me  see  what  you  are, 
and  whence  you  come,,,  just  as  the  police  say,  "  Show 
me  your  pass."  "  Have  you  that  indorsement  from 
Nature  which  is  necessary  to  the  acceptance  of  every 
semblance  ?  " 

In  short,  whatever  things  are  applied  to  the  body 
by  those  who  train  it,  so  may  these  be  used  in  our 
training  if  they  any  way  affect  desire  or  aversion. 
But  if  this  be  done  for  mere  ostentation,  it  belongs 
to  one  who  looks  and  seeks  for  something  external, 
and  strives  for  spectators  to  exclaim,  "  What  a  great 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  225 

man !  "  Hence  Apollonius  said  well,  "  If  you  have 
a  mind  to  train  yourself  for  your  own  benefit,  when 
you  are  choking  with  heat,  take  a  little  cold  water  in 
your  mouth,  and  spit  it  out  again,  and  hold  your 
tongue." 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

WHAT   SOLITUDE   IS;    AND    WHAT   A   SOLITARY   PERSON. 

IT  is  solitude  to  be  in  the  condition  of  a  helpless 
person.  For  he  who  is  alone  is  not  therefore  sol- 
itary, any  more  than  one  in  a  crowd  is  the  contrary. 
When,  therefore,  we  lose  a  son,  or  a  brother,  or  a 
friend,  on  whom  we  have  been  used  to  repose,  we 
often  say  we  are  left  solitary,  even  in  the  midst  of 
Rome,  where  such  a  crowd  is  continually  meeting 
us ;  where  we  live  among  so  many,  and  where  we 
have,  perhaps,  a  numerous  train  of  servants.  For  he 
is  understood  to  be  solitary  who  is  helpless,  and  ex- 
posed to  such  as  would  injure  him.  Hence,  in  a 
journey  especially,  we  call  ourselves  solitary  when  we 
fall  among  thieves ;  for  it  is  not  the  sight  of  a  man 
that  removes  our  solitude,  but  of  an  honest  man,  a 
man  of  honor,  and  a  helpful  companion.  If  merely 
being  alone  is  sufficient  for  solitude,  Zeus  may  be 
said  to  be  solitary  at  the  great  conflagration,*  and 
bewail  himself  that  he  hath  neither  Here,  nor  Athene, 
nor  Apollo,  nor  brother,  nor  son,  nor  descendant,  nor 
relation.  This,  some  indeed  say,  he  doth  when  he  is 
alone  at  the  conflagration.  Such  as  these,  moved  by 
some  natural  principle,  some  natural  desire  of  soci- 

*  The  Stoics  held  to  successive  conflagrations  at  destined  periods  j 
in  which  all  beings  were  reabsorbed  into  the  Deity.  —  C. 
15 


226  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

ety,  and  mutual  love,  and  by  the  pleasure  of  conver- 
sation, do  not  rightly  consider  the  state  of  a  person 
who  is  alone.  But  none  the  less  should  we  be  pre- 
pared for  this  also,  to  suffice  unto  ourselves,  and  to 
bear  our  own  company.  For  as  Zeus  converses  with 
himself,  acquiesces  in  himself,  and  contemplates  his 
own  administration,  and  is  employed  in  thoughts 
worthy  of  himself ;  so  should  we  too  be  able  to  talk 
with  ourselves,  and  not  to  need  the  conversation  of 
others,  nor  suifer  enmri ;  to  attend  to  the  divine  ad- 
ministration;  to  consider  our  relation  to  other  be- 
ings ;  how  we  have  formerly  been  affected  by  events, 
how  we  are  affected  now ;  what  are  the  things  that 
still  press  upon  us ;  how  these  too  may  be  cured,  how 
removed ;  if  anything  wants  completing,  to  complete 
it  according  to  reason.  You  perceive  that  Caesar  has 
procured  us  a  profound  peace  ;  there  are  neither  wars 
nor  battles,  nor  great  robberies  nor  piracies ;  but  we 
may  travel  at  all  hours,  and  sail  from  east  to  west. 
But  can  Caesar  procure  us  peace  from  a  fever  too  ? 
From  a  shipwreck  ?  From  a  fire  ?  From  an  earth- 
quake ?  From  a  thunder  storm  ?  Nay,  even  from 
love  ?  He  cannot.  From  grief  ?  From  envy  ?  No ; 
not  from  any  one  of  these.  But  the  doctrine  of  phi- 
losophers promises  to  procure  us  peace  from  these  too. 
And  what  doth  it  say ?  "If  you  will  attend  to  me, 
0  mortals  !  wherever  you  are,  and  whatever  you  are 
doing,  you  shall  neither  grieve,  nor  be  angry,  nor  be 
compelled,  nor  restrained  ;  but  you  shall  live  serene, 
and  free  from  all."  Shall  not  he  who  enjoys  this 
peace  proclaimed,  not  by  Caesar  (for  how  should  he 
have  it  to  proclaim  ?)  but  by  God,  through  Reason, 
—  be  contented  when  he  is  alone,  reflecting  and 
considering :   "  To  me  there  can  now  no  ill  happen ; 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  22T 

there  is  no  thief,  no  earthquake.  All  is  full  of  peace, 
all  full  of  tranquillity ;  every  road,  every  city,  every 
assembly,  neighbor,  companion,  is  powerless  to  hurt 
me."  Another  whose  care  it  is,  provides  you  with 
food,  with  clothes,  with  senses,  with  ideas.  When- 
ever He  doth  not  provide  what  is  necessary,  He 
sounds  a  retreat;  He  opens  the  door,  and  says  to 
you,  "  Come."  Whither  ?  To  nothing  dreadful ; 
but  to  that  whence  you  were  made;  to  what  is 
friendly  and  congenial,  to  the  elements.  What  in 
you  was  fire  goes  away  to  fire;  what  was  earth, 
to  earth ;  what  air,  to  air ;  what  water,  to  water. 
There  is  no  Hades,  nor  Acheron,  nor  Cocytus,  nor 
Pyriphlegethon ;  but  all  is  full  of  gods  and  divine 
beings.  He  who  can  have  such  thoughts,  and  can 
look  upon  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  enjoy  the 
earth  and  sea,  is  no  more  solitary  than  he  is  helpless. 
"  Well ;  but  suppose  any  one  should  come  and  mur- 
der me  when  I  am  alone."  Foolish  man  ;  not  you  ; 
but  that  insignificant  body  of  yours. 

What  solitude  is  there  then  left  ?  What  destitu- 
tion ?  Why  do  we  make  ourselves  worse  than  chil- 
dren ?  What  do  they  do  when  they  are  left  alone  ? 
They  take  up  shells  and  dust ;  they  build  houses, 
then  pull  them  down ;  then  build  something  else  ; 
and  thus  never  want  amusement.  Suppose  you  were 
all  to  sail  away ;  am  I  to  sit  and  cry  because  I  am 
left  alone  and  solitary?  Am  I  so  unprovided  with 
shells  and  dust  ?  But  children  do  this  from  folly  ; 
and  shall  we  be  wretched  through  wisdom  ? 

Every  great  gift  is  dangerous  to  a  beginner.  Study 
first  how  to  live  like  a  person  in  sickness  ;  that  in  time 
you  may  know  how  to  live  like  one  in  health.  Ab- 
stain from  food.     Drink  water.     Totally  repress  your 


228  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

desire,  for  some  time,  that  you  may  at  length  use  it 
according  to  reason  ;  and,  if  so,  when  you  are  stronger 
in  virtue,  you  will  use  it  well.  No  ;  but  we  would 
live  immediately  as  men  already  wise  ;  and  be  of  ser- 
vice to  mankind.  Of  what  service  ?  What  are  you 
doing  ?  Why  ;  have  you  been  of  so  much  service  to 
yourself  that  you  would  exhort  them  ?  You  exhort ! 
Would  you  be  of  service  to  them,  show  them  by  your 
own  example  what  kind  of  men  philosophy  makes  ; 
and  do  not  trifle.  When  you  eat,  be  of  service  to 
those  who  eat  with  you ;  when  you  drink,  to  those 
who  drink  with  you.  Be  of  service  to  them  by  giv- 
ing way  to  all,  yielding  to  them,  bearing  with  them  ; 
and  not  by  venting  upon  them  your  own  ill  humor. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

AS  bad  performers  cannot  sing  alone,  but  in  a 
chorus  ;  so  some  persons  cannot  walk  alone.  If 
you  are  anything,  walk  alone  ;  talk  by  yourself ;  and 
do  not  skulk  in  the  chorus.  Think  a  little  at  last ; 
look  about  you ;  sift  yourself  that  you  may  know 
what  you  are. 

If  a  person  drinks  water,  or  does  anything  else  for 
the  sake  of  training,  upon  every  occasion  he  tells  all 
he  meets,  "  I  drink  water."  Why,  do  you  drink  wa- 
ter merely  for  the  sake  of  drinking  it  ?  If  it  does 
you  any  good  to  drink  it,  do  so  ;  if  not,  you  act  ridic- 
ulously. But,  if  it  is  for  your  advantage  that  you 
drink  it,  say  nothing  about  it  before  those  who  would 
criticise.  Yet  can  it  be  possible  that  these  are  the 
very  people  you  wish  to  please  ? 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  229 

Of  actions,  some  are  performed  on  their  own  ac- 
count ;  others  from  circumstances,  others  from  com- 
plaisance, others  upon  system. 

Two  things  must  be  rooted  out  of  men,  conceit  and 
diffidence.  Conceit  lies  in  thinking  that  you  want 
nothing;  and  diffidence  in  supposing  it  impossible 
that  under  such  adverse  circumstances,  you  should 
ever  succeed.  Now  conceit  is  removed  by  confuta- 
tion ;  and  of  this  Socrates  set  the  example.  And 
consider  and  ascertain  that  the  undertaking  is  not 
impracticable.  The  inquiry  itself  will  do  you  no 
harm;  and  it  is  almost  being  a  philosopher  to  in- 
quire how  it  is  possible  to  employ  our  desire  and 
aversion  without  hindrance. 

"  I  am  better  than  you ;  for  my  father  has  been 
consul."  —  "I  have  been  a  tribune,"  says  another, 
"  and  you  not."  If  we  were  horses,  would  you  say, 
"  My  father  was  swifter  than  yours  ?  I  have  abun- 
dance of  oats  and  hay  and  fine  trappings  ?  "  What 
now,  if,  while  you  were  saying  this,  I  should  answer  : 
"  Be  it  so.  Let  us  run  a  race  then."  Is  there  noth- 
ing in  man  analogous  to  a  race  in  horses,  by  which  it 
may  be  decided  which  is  better  or  worse  ?  Is  there 
not  honor,  fidelity,  justice  ?  Show  yourself  the  better 
in  these,  that  you  may  be  the  better  as  a  man.  But 
if  you  only  tell  me  that  you  can  kick  violently,  I  will 
tell  you  again  that  you  value  yourself  on  what  is  the 
property  of  an  ass. 


230  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    XV.* 

THAT   EVERYTHING   IS   TO   BE   UNDERTAKEN   WITH 
CIRCUMSPECTION. 

IN  every  affair  consider  what  precedes  and  follows, 
and  then  undertake  it.  Otherwise  you  will  begin 
with  spirit  indeed,  careless  of  the  consequences,  and 
when  these  are  developed,  you  will  shamefully  desist. 
"  I  would  conquer  at  the  Olympic  Games."  But  con- 
sider what  precedes  and  follows,  and,  then,  if  it  be 
for  your  advantage,  engage  in  the  affair.  You  must 
conform  to  rules,  submit  to  a  diet,  refrain  from  dain- 
ties ;  exercise  your  body,  whether  you  choose  it  or 
not,  at  a  stated  hour,  in  heat  and  cold ;  you  must 
drink  no  cold  water,  and  sometimes  no  wine.  In  a 
word,  you  must  give  yourself  up  to  your  trainer  as 
to  a  physician.  Then,  in  the  combat,  you  may  be 
thrown  into  a  ditch,  dislocate  your  arm,  turn  your 
ankle,  swallow  abundance  of  dust,  receive  stripes 
[for  negligence]  ;  and  after  all,  lose  the  victory. 
When  you  have  reckoned  up  all  this,  if  your  incli- 
nation still  holds,  set  about  the  combat.  Otherwise, 
take  notice,  you  will  behave  like  children  who  some- 
times play  wrestlers,  sometimes  gladiators ;  some- 
times blow  a  trumpet,  and  sometimes  act  a  tragedy, 
when  they  happen  to  have  seen  and  admired  these 
shows.  Thus  you  too  will  be  at  one  time  a  wrestler, 
at  another  a  gladiator ;  now  a  philosopher,  now  an 
orator;  but  nothing  in  earnest.  Like  an  ape  you 
mimic  all  you  see,  and  one  thing  after  another  is  sure 

*  This  fifteenth  chapter  makes  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  Enchiri- 
dion ;  but  with  some  varieties  of  reading.  —  C 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  231 

to  please  you  ;  but  is  out  of  favor  as  soon  as  it  be- 
comes familiar.  For  you  have  never  entered  upon 
anything  considerately,  nor  after  having  surveyed 
and  tested  the  whole  matter ;  but  carelessly,  and  with 
a  half-way  zeal.  Thus  some,  when  they  have  seen  a 
philosopher,  and  heard  a  man  speaking  like  Euphra- 
tes,*—  though  indeed  who  can  speak  like  him?  — 
have  a  mind  to  be  philosophers  too.  Consider  first, 
man,  what  the  matter  is,  and  what  your  own  nature 
is  able  to  bear.  If  you  would  be  a  wrestler,  consider 
your  shoulders,  your  back,  your  thighs ;  for  differ- 
ent persons  are  made  for  different  things.  Do  you 
think  that  you  can  act  as  you  do  and  be  a  philoso- 
pher ?  That  you  can  eat,  drink,  be  angry,  be  discon- 
tented, as  you  are  now  ?  You  must  watch,  you  must 
labor,  you  must  get  the  better  of  certain  appetites ; 
must  quit  your  acquaintances,  be  despised  by  your 
servant,  be  laughed  at  by  those  you  meet ;  come  off 
worse  than  others  in  everything,  in  offices,  in  honors, 
before  tribunals.  When  you  have  fully  considered 
all  these  things,  approach,  if  you  please ;  if,  by  part- 
ing with  them,  you  have  a  mind  to  purchase  seren- 
ity, freedom,  and  tranquillity.  If  not,  do  not  come 
hither  ;  do  not,  like  children,  be  now  a  philosopher, 
then  a  publican,  then  an  orator,  and  then  one  of  Cae- 
sar's officers.  These  things  are  not  consistent.  You 
must  be  one  man  either  good  or  bad.  You  must  cul- 
tivate either  your  own  Reason  or  else  externals ;  ap- 
ply yourself  either  to  things  within  or  without  you ; 
that  is,  be  either  a  philosopher,  or  one  of  the  mob. 

*  Euphrates  was  a  philosopher  of  Syria,  whose  character  is  de- 
scribed, with  the  highest  encomiums,  by  Pliny.     See  L.  I.  Ep.  x.  —  C. 


232  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THAT    CAUTION    SHOULD    BE   USED,   AS    TO   PERSONAL 
FAMILIARITY. 

HE  who  frequently  mingles  with  others,  either  in 
conversation  or  at  entertainments,  or  in  any 
familiar  way  of  living,  must  necessarily  either  become 
like  his  companions,  or  bring  them  over  to  his  own 
way.  For,  if  a  dead  coal  be  applied  to  a  live  one, 
either  the  first  will  quench  the  last,  or  the  last  kindle 
the  first.  Since,  then,  the  danger  is  so  great,  cau- 
tion must  be  used  in  entering  into  these  familiarities 
with  the  crowd ;  remembering  that  it  is  impossible 
to  touch  a  chimney-sweeper  without  being  partaker 
of  his  soot.  For  what  will  you  do,  if  you  have  to 
discuss  gladiators,  horses,  wrestlers,  and,  what  is 
worse,  men  ?  "  Such  a  one  is  good,  another  bad ; 
this  was  well,  that  ill  done.,,  Besides,  what  if  any 
one  should  sneer,  or  ridicule,  or  be  ill-natured  ?  Are 
any  of  you  prepared,  like  a  harper,  who,  when  he 
takes  his  harp,  and  tries  the  strings,  finds  out  which 
notes  are  discordant,  and  knows  how  to  put  the  in- 
strument in  tune  ?  Have  any  of  you  such  a  faculty 
as  Socrates  had ;  who  in  every  conversation,  could 
bring  his  companions  to  his  own  purpose  ?  Whence 
should  you  have  it  ?  You  must  therefore  be  carried 
along  by  the  crowd.  And  why  are  they  more  power- 
ful than  you  ?  Because  they  utter  their  corrupt  dis- 
courses from  sincere  opinion,  and  you  your  good  ones 
only  from  your  lips.  Hence  they  are  without  strength 
or  life  ;  and  it  is  disgusting  to  hear  your  exhortations 
and  your  poor  miserable  virtue  proclaimed  up  hill  and 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.       233 

down.  Thus  it  is  that  the  crowd  gets  the  better  of 
you ;  for  sincere  opinion  is  always  strong,  always  in- 
vincible. Therefore  before  wise  sentiments  are  fixed 
in  you,  and  you  have  acquired  some  power  of  self-de- 
fence, I  advise  you  to  be  cautious  in  popular  inter- 
course, otherwise,  if  you  have  any  impressions  made 
on  you  in  the  schools,  they  will  melt  away  daily  like 
wax  before  the  sun.  Get  away  then,  far  from  the 
sun,  while  you  have  these  waxen  opinions. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  philosophers  advise  us 
to  leave  our  country ;  because  habitual  practices  draw 
the  mind  aside,  and  prevent  the  formation  of  new 
habits.  We  cannot  bear  that  those  who  meet  us 
should  say,  "  Hey-day!  such  a  one  is  turned  philos- 
opher, who  was  formerly  thus  and  so."  Thus  phy- 
sicians send  patients  with  lingering  distempers  to 
another  place  and  another  air;  and  they  do  right. 
Do  you  too  import  other  manners  instead  of  those 
you  carry  out.  Fix  your  opinions,  and  exercise 
yourself  in  them.  No ;  but  you  go  hence  to  the 
theatre,  to  the  gladiators,  to  the  walks,  to  the  circus ; 
then  hither  again,  then  back  again  ;  — just  the  same 
persons  all  the  while !  No  good  habit,  no  criticism, 
no  animadversion  upon  ourselves.  No  observation 
what  use  we  make  of  the  appearances  presented  to 
our  minds ;  whether  it  be  conformable,  or  contrary 
to  Nature  ;  whether  we  interpret  them  rightly  or 
wrongly.  Can  I  say  to  the  inevitable  that  it  is  noth- 
ing to  me  ?  If  this  be  not  yet  your  case,  fly  from 
your  former  habits  :  fly  from  the  crowd  if  you  would 
ever  begin  to  be  anything. 


234  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

OF   PROVIDENCE. 

WHENEVER  you  lay  anything  to  the  charge  of 
Providence,  do  but  reflect,  and  you  will  find 
that  it  has  happened  agreeably  to  Reason. 

"  Well ;  but  a  dishonest  man  has  the  advantage.'' 

In  what  ? 

"  In  money." 

Here  he  ought  to  surpass  you  ;  because  he  flatters, 
he  is  shameless,  he  keeps  awake.  Where  is  the  won- 
der ?  But  look  whether  he  has  the  advantage  of  you 
in  fidelity  or  in  honor.  You  will  find  he  has  not; 
but  that  wherever  it  is  best  for  you  to  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  him,  there  you  have  it.  I  once  said  to  one 
who  was  full  of  indignation  at  the  good  fortune  of 
Philostorgus,  "  Why,  would  you  be  willing  to  sleep 
with  Sura  ? "  *  Heaven  forbid,  said  he,  that  day 
should  ever  come !  Why  then  are  you  angry  that  he 
is  paid  for  what  he  sells ;  or  how  can  you  call  him 
happy  in  possessions  acquired  by  means  which  you 
detest  ? ,  Or  what  harm  does  Providence  do  in  giving 
the  best  things  to  the  best  men  ?  Is  it  not  better  to 
have  a  sense  of  honor  than  to  be  rich  ?  "  Granted. " 
Why  then  are  you  angry,  man,  if  you  have  what  is 
best  ?  Always  remember,  then,  and  have  it  in  mind 
that  a  better  man  has  the  advantage  of  a  worse  in 
that  direction  in  which  he  is  better;  and  you  will 
never  have  any  indignation. 

*  This  person  is  not  known.  One  of  his  name  is  mentioned  in 
the  Acts  of  Ignatius,  as  being  consul  at  the  time  when  he  suffered 
martyrdom.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  235 

"  But  my  wife  treats  me  ill." 

Well ;  if  you  are  asked  what  is  the  matter,  answer, 
"  My  wife  treats  me  ill." 

"  Nothing  more  ?  " 

Nothing. 

"  My  father  gives  me  nothing."  But  to  denomi- 
nate this  an  evil,  some  external  and  false  addition 
must  be  made.  We  are  not  therefore  to  get  rid  of 
poverty,  but  of  our  impressions  concerning  it;  and 
we  shall  do  well. 

When  Galba  was  killed,  somebody  said  to  Ru- 
fus,  "  Now,  indeed,  the  world  iB  governed  by  Provi- 
dence." I  had  never  thought,  answered  Rufus,  of 
extracting  through  Galba  the  slightest  proof  that  the 
world  was  governed  by  Providence. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THAT  WE  OUGHT  NOT  TO  BE  ALARMED,  BY  ANT  NEWS 
THAT  IS  BROUGHT  US. 

WHEN  any  alarming  news  is  brought  you,  always 
have  it  ready  in  mind  that  no  news  can  be 
brought  you  concerning  what  is  within  the  power  of 
your  own  Will.  Can  any  one  bring  you  news  that 
your  opinions  or  desires  are  ill  conducted  ?  By  no 
means ;  only  that  such  a  person  is  dead.  What  is 
that  to  you  then  ?  —  That  somebody  speaks  ill  of  you. 
And  what  is  that  to  you  then  ?  —  That  your  father  is 
perhaps  forming  some  contrivance  or  other.  Against 
what  ?  Against  your  Will  ?  How  can  he  ?  No  ;  but 
against  your  body,  against  your  estate?  You  are 
very  safe ;  this  is  not  against  you.  —  But  the  Judge 


236  THE   DISCOUESES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

has  pronounced  you  guilty  of  impiety.  And  did  not 
the  Judges  pronounce  the  same  of  Socrates  ?  Is  his 
pronouncing  a  sentence  any  business  of  yours  ?  No. 
Then  why  do  you  any  longer  trouble  yourself  about 
it  ?  There  is  a  duty  incumbent  on  your  father,  which 
unless  he  performs,  he  loses  the  character  of  a  father, 
of  natural  affection,  of  tenderness.  Do  not  desire 
him  to  lose  anything  else,  by  this  ;  for  every  man  suf- 
fers precisely  where  he  errs.  Your  duty,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  to  meet  the  case  with  firmness,  mod- 
esty, and  mildness ;  otherwise  you  forfeit  piety,  mod- 
esty, and  nobleness.  Well ;  and  is  your  Judge  free 
from  danger  ?  No.  He  runs  an  equal  hazard.  Why, 
then,  are  you  still  afraid  of  his  decision  ?  What  have 
you  to  do  with  the  ills  of  another?  Meeting  the 
case  wrongly  would  be  your  own  ill.  Let  it  be  your 
only  care  to  avoid  that;  but  whether  sentence  is 
passed  on  you,  or  not,  as  it  is  the  business  of  another, 
so  the  ill  belongs  to  him.  "  Such  a  one  threatens 
you."  Me?  No.  "He  censures  you."  Let  him 
look  to  it,  how  he  does  his  own  duty.  "  He  will  give 
an  unjust  sentence  against  you."     Poor  wretch! 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

WHAT    IS    THE     COMPARATIVE     CONDITION    OF    THE    PHI- 
LOSOPHER,  AND    OF   THE    CROWD. 

THE  first  difference  between  one  of  the  crowd 
and  a  philosopher  is  this  ;  the  one  says,  "  I  am 
undone  on  the  account  of  my  child,  my  brother,  my 
father  "  ;  but  the  other,  if  ever  he  be  obliged  to  say, 
"  I  am  undone !  "  reflects,  and  adds,  "  on  account  of 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  237 

myself."  For  the  Will  cannot  be  restrained  or  hurt 
by  anything  to  which  the  Will  does  not  extend,  but 
only  by  itself.  If,  therefore,  we  always  would  incline 
this  way,  and,  whenever  we  are  unsuccessful,  would 
lay  the  fault  on  ourselves,  and  remember  that  there  is 
no  cause  of  perturbation  and  inconstancy,  but  wrong 
principles,  I  pledge  myself  to  you  that  we  should 
make  some  proficiency.  But  we  set  out  in  a  very 
different  way  from  the  very  beginning.  In  infancy, 
for  example,  if  we  happen  to  stumble,  our  nurse  does 
not  chide  us,  but  beats  the  stone.  Why  ;  what  harm 
has  the  stone  done  ?  Was  it  to  move  out  of  its  place 
for  the  folly  of  your  child  ?  Again ;  if  we  do  not  find 
something  to  eat  when  we  come  out  of  the  bath,  our 
tutor  does  not  try  to  moderate  our  appetite,  but  beats 
the  cook.  Why ;  did  we  appoint  you  tutor  of  the 
cook,  man  ?  No  ;  but  of  our  child.  It  is  he  whom 
you  are  to  correct  and  improve.  By  these  means, 
even  when  we  are  grown  up,  we  appear  children. 
For  an  unmusical  person  is  a  child  in  music;  an 
illiterate  person,  a  child  in  learning;  and  an  un- 
taught one,  a  child  in  life. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THAT   SOME   ADVANTAGE   MAT   BE    GAINED    FROM   EVERT 
OUTWARD    CIRCUMSTANCE. 

IN  considering  sensible  phenomena,  almost  all  per- 
sons admit  good  and  evil  to  lie  in  ourselves  and 
not  in  externals.  No  one  says  it  is  good  to  be  day  ; 
evil  to  be  night;  and  the  greatest  evil  that  three 
should  be  four ;  but  what  ?     That  knowledge  is  good 


238  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

and  error  evil.  Even  in  connection  with  falsehood 
itself  there  may  be  one  good  thing ;  the  knowledge 
that  it  is  falsehood.  Thus,  then,  should  it  be  in  life 
also.  "  Health  is  a  good  ;  sickness  an  evil."  No,  sir. 
But  what  ?  A  right  use  of  health  is  a  good  ;  a  wrong 
one,  an  evil.  So  that,  in  truth,  it  is  possible  to  be  a 
gainer  even  by  sickness.  And  is  it  not  possible  by 
death  too  ?  By  mutilation  ?  Do  you  think  Men- 
aeceus  *  an  inconsiderable  gainer  by  death  ?  "  May 
whoever  talks  thus  be  such  a  gainer  as  he  was ! " 
Why,  pray,  sir,  did  not  he  preserve  his  patriotism,  his 
magnanimity,  his  fidelity,  his  gallant  spirit?  And, 
if  he  had  lived  on,  would  he  not  have  lost  all  these  ? 
Would  not  cowardice,  baseness,  and  hatred  of  his 
country,  and  a  wretched  love  of  life,  have  been  his 
portion  ?  Well  now ;  do  not  you  think  him  a  consid- 
erable gainer  by  dying  ?  No  ;  but  I  warrant  you  the 
father  of  Admetus  was  a  great  gainer  by  living  on  in 
so  mean-spirited  and  wretched  a  way  as  he  did !  For 
did  not  he  die  at  last  ?  For  Heaven's  sake  cease  to 
be  thus  deluded  by  externals.  Cease  to  make  your- 
selves slaves ;  first,  of  things,  and,  then,  upon  their 
account,  of  the  men  who  have  the  power  either  to 
bestow,  or  to  take  them  away.  Is  there  any  advan 
tage,  then,  to  be  gained  from  these  men  ?  From  all ; 
even  from  a  reviler.  What  advantage  does  a  wrestler 
gain  from  him  with  whom  he  exercises  himself  before 
the  combat  ?  The  greatest.  And  just  in  the  same 
manner  I  exercise  myself  with  this  man.  He  exer- 
cises me  in  patience,  in  gentleness,  in  meekness.  I 
am  to  suppose,  then,  that  I  gain  an  advantage  from  him 

*  The  son  of  Creon, — who  killed  himself,  after  he  had  been  in- 
formed by  an  oracle  that  his  death  would  procure  a  victory  to  the 
Thcbans.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  239 

who  exercises  my  neck,  and  puts  my  back  and  shoul- 
ders in  order ;  so  that  the  trainer  may  well  bid  me 
grapple  him,  with  both  hands,  and  the  heavier  he  is 
the  better  for  me ;  and  yet  it  is  no  advantage  to  me 
when  I  am  exercised  in  gentleness  of  temper  !  This 
is  not  to  know  how  to  gain  an  advantage  from  men.  Is 
my  neighbor  a  bad  one  ?  He  is  so  to  himself ;  but  a 
good  one  to  me.  He  exercises  my  good-temper,  my 
moderation.  Is  my  father  bad  ?  To  himself ;  but 
not  to  me.  "This  is  the  rod  of  Hermes.  Touch 
with  it  whatever  you  please,  and  it  will  become  gold." 
No ;  but  bring  whatever  you  please,  and  I  will  turn 
it  into  good.  Bring  sickness,  death,  want,  reproach, 
trial  for  life.  All  these,  by  the  rod  of  Hermes,  shall 
turn  to  advantage.  "  What  will  you  make  of  death  ?  " 
Why,  what  but  an  ornament  to  you?  what  but  a 
means  of  your  showing,  by  action,  what  that  man  is 
who  knows  and  follows  the  will  of  Nature.  "  What 
will  you  make  of  sickness  ?  "  I  will  show  its  nature. 
I  will  make  a  good  figure  in  it ;  I  will  be  composed 
and  happy  ;  I  will  not  beseech  my  physician,  nor  yet 
will  I  pray  to  die.  What  need  you  ask  further? 
Whatever  you  give  me,  I  will  make  it  happy,  fortu- 
nate, respectable,  and  eligible. 

No,  but,  "  take  care  not  to  be  sick  ;  —  it  is  an  evil." 
Just  as  if  one  should  say,  "  Take  care  that  the  sem- 
blance of  three  being  four  does  not  present  itself  to 
you.  It  is  an  evil."  How  an  evil,  man  ?  If  I  think 
as  I  ought  about  it,  what  hurt  will  it  any  longer  do 
me  ?  Will  it  not  rather  be  even  an  advantage  to  me  ? 
If  then  I  think  as  I  ought  of  poverty,  of  sickness,  of 
political  disorder,  is  not  that  enough  for  me  ?  Why 
then  must  I  any  longer  seek  good  or  evil  in  exter- 
nals? 


240  THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

But  how  is  it  ?  These  truths  are  admitted  here ; 
but  nobody  carries  them  home,  for  immediately  every 
one  is  in  a  state  of  war  with  his  servant,  his  neigh- 
bors, with  those  who  sneer  and  ridicule  him.  Many 
thanks  to  Lepsius  for  proving  every  day  that  I  know 
nothing. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

CONCERNING   THOSE   WHO   READILY   SET   UP   FOR 
SOPHISTS. 

THEY  who  have  merely  received  bare  maxims  are. 
presently  inclined  to  throw  them  up,  as  a  sick 
stomach  does  its  food.  Digest  it,  and  then  you  will 
not  throw  it  up ;  otherwise  it  will  be  crude  and  im- 
pure, and  unfit  for  nourishment.  But  show  us,  from 
what  you  have  digested,  some  change  in  your  ruling 
faculty ;  as  wrestlers  do  in  their  shoulders,  from  their 
exercise  and  their  diet;  as  artificers,  in  their  skill, 
from  what  they  have  learnt.  A  carpenter  does  not 
come  and  say,  "  Hear  me  discourse  on  the  art  of 
building  " ;  but  he  hires  a  building,  and  fits  it  up, 
and  shows  himself  master  of  his  trade.  Let  it  be 
your  business  likewise  to  do  something  like  this ;  be 
manly  in  your  ways  of  eating,  drinking,  dressing; 
marry,  have  children,  perform  the  duty  of  a  citizen ; 
bear  reproach ;  bear  with  an  unreasonable  brother ; 
bear  with  a  father;  bear  with  a  son,  a  neighbor,  a 
companion,  as  becomes  a  man.  Show  us  these  things, 
that  we  may  see  that  you  have  really  learned  some- 
thing from  the  philosophers.  No;  but  "come  and 
hear  me  repeat  commentaries."  Get  you  gone,  and 
seek  somebody  else  upon  whom  to  bestow  them. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  241 

"  Nay,  but  I  will  explain  the  doctrines  of  Chrysippus 
to  you  as  no  other  person  can ;  I  will  elucidate  his 
style  in  the  clearest  manner."  And  is  it  for  this, 
then,  that  young  men  leave  their  country,  and  their 
own  parents,  that  they  may  come  and  hear  you 
explain  words  ?  Ought  they  not  to  return  patient, 
active,  free  from  passion,  free  from  perturbation  ;  fur- 
nished with  such  a  provision  for  life,  that,  setting  out 
with  it,  they  will  be  able  to  bear  all  events  well,  and 
derive  ornament  from  them  ?  But  how  should  you 
impart  what  you  have  not  ?  For  have  you  yourself 
done  anything  else,  from  the  beginning,  but  spend 
your  time  in  solving  syllogisms  and  convertible  propo- 
sitions and  interrogatory  arguments.  "  But  such  a 
one  has  a  school,  and  why  should  not  I  have  one  ?  " 
Foolish  man,  these  things  are  not  brought  about 
carelessly  and  at  haphazard.  But  there  must  be  a  fit 
age,  and  a  method  of  life,  and  a  guiding  God.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  No  one  quits  the  port,  or  sets  sail,  till  he 
hath  sacrified  to  the  gods,  and  implored  their  assist- 
ance ;  nor  do  men  sow  without  first  invoking  Ceres. 
And  shall  any  one  who  has  undertaken  so  great  a 
work  attempt  it  safely  without  the  gods  ?  And  shall 
they  who  apply  to  such  a  one,  apply  to  him  with  suc- 
cess ?  What  are  you  doing  else,  man,  but  divulging 
the  mysteries  ?  As  if  you  said,  "  There  is  a  temple 
at  Eleusis,  and  here  is  one  too.  There  is  a  priest, 
and  I  will  make  a  priest  here ;  there  is  a  herald,  and 
I  will  appoint  a  herald  too ;  there  is  a  torch-bearer, 
and  I  will  have  a  torch-bearer;  there  are  torches, 
and  so  shall  there  be  here.  The  words  said,  the 
things  done,  are  the  same.  Where  is  the  difference 
betwixt  one  and  the  other  ?  "  Most  impious  man  ! 
is  there  no  difference  ?     Are  these  things  of  use,  out 

16 


242  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

of  place,  and  out  of  time  ?  A  man  should  come  with 
sacrifices  and  prayers,  previously  purified,  and  his 
mind  affected  by  the  knowledge  that  he  is  approach- 
ing sacred  and  ancient  rites.  Thus  the  mysteries 
become  useful ;  thus  we  come  to  have  an  idea  that 
all  these  things  were  appointed  by  the  ancients  for 
the  instruction  and  correction  of  life.  But  you  di- 
vulge and  publish  them  without  regard  to  time  and 
place,  without  sacrifices,  without  purity ;  you  have 
not  the  garment  that  is  necessary  for  a  priest,  nor  the 
fitting  hair  nor  girdle ;  nor  the  voice,  nor  the  age, 
nor  have  you  purified  yourself  like  him.  But,  when 
you  have  got  the  words  by  heart,  you  say,  "  The 
mere  words  are  sacred  of  themselves."  These  things 
are  to  be  approached  in  another  manner.  It  is  a 
great,  it  is  a  mystical  affair ;  not  given  by  chance, 
or  to  every  one  indifferently.  Nay,  mere  wisdom, 
perhaps,  is  not  a  sufficient  qualification  for  the  care 
of  youth.  There  ought  to  be  likewise  a  certain  read- 
iness and  aptitude  for  this,  and  indeed  a  particular 
physical  temperament :  and,  above  all,  a  counsel 
from  God  to  undertake  this  office,  as  he  counselled 
Socrates  to  undertake  the  office  of  confutation ;  Di- 
ogenes,, that  of  authoritative  reproof;  Zeno,  that  of 
dogmatical  instruction.  But  you  set  up  for  a  phy- 
sician, provided  with  nothing  but  medicines,  and 
without  knowing,  or  having  studied,  where  or  how 
they  are  to  be  applied.  "  Why,  such  a  one  had  me- 
dicines for  the  eyes,  and  I  have  tjie  same."  Have 
you  also,  then,  a  faculty  of  making  use  of  them  ? 
Do  you  at  all  know  when,  and  how,  and  to  whom, 
they  will  be  of  service?  Why  then  do  you  act  at 
hazard  ?  Why  are  you  careless  in  things  of  the 
greatest  importance?    Why  do  you  attempt  a  mat- 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  243 

ter  unsuitable  to  you  ?  Leave  it  to  those  who  can 
perform  it  and  do  it  honor.  Do  not  you  too  bring 
a  scandal  upon  philosophy  by  your  means ;  nor  be 
one  of  those  who  cause  the  thing  itself  to  be  calumni- 
ated. But  if  mere  theorems  delight  you,  sit  quietly 
and  turn  them  over  by  yourself ;  but  never  call  your- 
self a  philosopher,  nor  suffer  another  to  call  you  so ; 
but  say:  he  is  mistaken;  for  my  desires  are  not 
different  from  what  they  were ;  nor  my  pursuits  di- 
rected to  other  objects;  nor  my  assents  otherwise 
given ;  nor  have  I  at  all  made  any  change  from  my 
former  condition  in  the  use  of  things  as  they  appear. 
Think  and  speak  thus  of  yourself,  if  you  would  think 
as  you  ought ;  if  not,  act  at  random,  and  do  as  you 
do ;  for  it  is  appropriate  to  you. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

OP   THE   CYNIC    PHILOSOPHY. 

WHEN  one  of  his  scholars,  who  seemed  inclined 
to  the  Cynic  philosophy,  asked  him  what  a 
Cynic  must  be,  and  what  was  the  general  plan  of 
that  sect  ?  Let  us  examine  it,  he  said,  at  our  leis- 
ure. But  thus  much  I  can  tell  you  now,  that  he 
who  attempts  so  great  an  affair  without  divine  guid- 
ance is  an  object  of  divine  wrath,  and  would  only 
bring  public  dishonor  upon  himself.  For  in  a  well- 
regulated  house  no  one  comes  and  says  to  himself, 
"  I  ought  to  be  the  manager  here."  If  he  does,  and 
the  master  returns  and  sees  him  insolently  giving 
orders,  he  drags  him  out,  and  has  him  punished. 
Such  is  the  case  likewise  in  this  great  city.     For 


244  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

here,  too,  is  a  master  of  the  family  who  orders  every- 
thing. "  You  are  the  sun  ;  you  can,  by  making  a  cir- 
cuit, form  the  year  and  the  seasons,  and  increase  and 
nourish  the  fruits  ;  you  can  raise  and  calm  the  winds, 
and  give  an  equable  warmth  to  the  bodies  of  men. 
Go ;  make  your  circuit,  and  thus  move  everything 
from  the  greatest  to  the  least.  You  are  a  calf;  when 
the  lion  appears  act  accordingly,  or  you  will  suffer  for 
it.  You  are  a  bull ;  come  and  fight ;  for  that  is  in- 
cumbent on  you,  and  becomes  you,  and  you  can  do 
it.  You  can  lead  an  army  to  Troy;  be  you  Aga- 
memnon. You  can  engage  in  single  combat  with 
Hector;  be  you  Achilles.''  But  if  Thersites  had 
come  and  claimed  the  command,  either  he  would  not 
have  obtained  it ;  or,  if  he  had,  he  would  have  dis- 
graced himself  before  so  many  more  witnesses. 

Do  you,  too,  carefully  deliberate  upon  this  under- 
dertaking  ;  it  is  not  what  you  think  it.  "  I  wear  an 
old  cloak  now,  and  I  shall  have  one  then.  I  sleep 
upon  the  hard  ground  now,  and  I  shall  sleep  so  then. 
I  will  moreover  take  a  wallet  and  a  staff,  and  go 
about,  and  beg  of  those  I  meet,  and  begin  by  rebuk- 
ing them ;  and,  if  I  see  any  one  using  effeminate 
practices,  or  arranging  his  curls,  or  walking  in  purple, 
I  will  rebuke  him."  If  you  imagine  this  to  be  the 
whole  thing,  avaunt;  come  not  near  it:  it  belongs 
not  to  you.  But,  if  you  imagine  it  to  be  what  it 
really  is,  and  do  not  think  yourself  unworthy  of  it, 
consider  how  great  a  thing  you  undertake. 

First,  with  regard  to  yourself;  you  must  no  longer, 
in  any  instance,  appear  as  now.  You  must  accuse 
neither  God  nor  man.  You  must  altogether  control 
desire ;  and  must  transfer  aversion  to  such  things 
only  as  are  controllable  by  Will.    You  must  have 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  245 

neither  anger,  nor  resentment,  nor  envy,  nor  pity. 
Neither  boy,  nor  girl,  nor  fame,  nor  dainties,  must 
have  charms  for  you.  For  you  must  know  that  other 
men  indeed  fence  themselves  with  walls,  and  houses, 
and  darkness,  when  they  indulge  in  anything  of  this 
kind,  and  have  many  concealments  ;  a  man  shuts  the 
door,  places  somebody  before  the  apartment :  "  Say 
that  he  is  out ;  say  that  he  is  engaged. M  But  the 
Cynic,  instead  of  all  this,  must  fence  himself  with 
virtuous  shame ;  otherwise  he  will  be  improperly 
exposed  in  the  open  air.  This  is  his  house,  this  his 
door,  this  his  porter,  this  his  darkness.  He  must  not 
wish  to  conceal  anything  relating  to  himself;  for,  if 
he  does,  he  is  gone ;  he  has  lost  the  Cynic  character, 
the  openness,  the  freedom ;  he  has  begun  to  fear 
something  external;  he  has  begun  to  need  conceal- 
ment ;  nor  can  he  get  it  when  he  will.  For  where 
shall  he  conceal  himself,  or  how  ?  For  if  this  tutor, 
this  pedagogue  of  the  public,  should  happen  to  slip, 
what  must  he  suffer  ?  Can  he  then,  who  dreads  these 
things,  be  thoroughly  bold  within,  and  prescribe  to 
other  men  ?     Impracticable,  impossible. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  you  must  purify  your  own 
ruling  faculty,  to  match  this  method  of  life.  Now  the 
material  for  me  to  work  upon  is  my  own  mind ;  as 
wood  is  for  a  carpenter,  or  leather  for  a  shoemaker  ; 
and  my  business  is,  a  right  use  of  things  as  they  ap- 
pear. But  body  is  nothing  to  me  :  its  parts  nothing 
to  me.  Let  death  come  when  it  will ;  either  of  the 
whole  body  or  of  part.  "  Go  into  exile."  And 
whither  ?  Can  any  one  turn  me  out  of  the  universe  ? 
He  cannot.  But  wherever  I  go,  there  is  the  sun,  the 
moon,  the  stars,  dreams,  auguries,  communication 
with   God.      And  even  this  preparation  is   by  no 


246  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

means  sufficient  for  a  true  Cynic.  But  it  must  fur- 
ther be  known  that  he  is  a  messenger  sent  from  Zeus 
to  men,  concerning  good  and  evil ;  to  show  them  that 
they  are  mistaken,  and  seek  the  essence  of  good  and 
evil  where  it  is  not,  but  do  not  observe  it  where  it  is ; 
that  he  is  a  spy,  like  Diogenes,  when  he  was  brought 
to  Philip,  after  the  battle  of  Chaeronea.  For,  in  ef- 
fect, a  Cynic  is  a  spy  to  discover  what  things  are 
friendly,  what  hostile,  to  man ;  and  he  must,  after 
making  an  accurate  observation,  come  and  tell  them 
the  truth ;  not  be  struck  with  terror,  so  as  to  point 
out  to  them  enemies  where  there  are  none ;  nor,  in 
any  other  instance,  be  disconcerted  or  confounded  by 
appearances. 

He  must,  then,  if  it  should  so  happen,  be  able  to 
lift  up  his  voice,  to  come  upon  the  stage,  and  say, 
like  Socrates:  "0  mortals,  whither  are  you  hurrying? 
What  are  you  about  ?  Why  do  you  tumble  up  and 
down,  0  miserable  wretches  !  like  blind  men  ?  You 
are  going  the  wrong  way,  and  have  forsaken  the  right. 
You  seek  prosperity  and  happiness  in  a  wrong  place, 
where  they  are  not ;  nor  do  you  give  credit  to  anoth- 
er, who  shows  you  where  they  are.  Why  do  you  seek 
this  possession  without  ?  It  lies  not  in  the  body ;  if 
you  do  not  believe  me,  look  at  Myro,  look  at  Ofellius. 
It  is  not  in  wealth ;  if  you  do  not  believe  me,  look 
upon  Croesus  ;  look  upon  the  rich  of  the  present  age, 
how  full  of  lamentation  their  life  is.  It  is  not  in 
power  ;  for  otherwise,  they  who  have  been  twice  and 
thrice  consuls  must  be  happy ;  but  they  are  not.  To 
whom  shall  we  give  heed  in  these  things  ?  To  you 
who  look  only  upon  the  externals  of  their  condition, 
and  are  dazzled  by  appearances,  —  or  to  themselves  ? 
What  do  they  say?     Hear  them  when  they  groan, 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.       247 

when  they  sigh,  when  they  pronounce  themselves  the 
more  wretched  and  in  more  danger  from  these  very 
consulships,  this  glory  and  splendor.  It  is  not  in 
empire ;  otherwise  Nero  and  Sardanapalus  had  been 
happy.  But  not  even  Agamemnon  was  happy,  though 
a  better  man  than  Sardanapalus  or  Nero.  But,  when 
others  sleep  soundly  what  is  he  doing  ? 

"Forth  by  the  roots  he  rends  his  hairs."* 

And  what  does  he  himself  say  ? 

"  I  wander  bewildered  ;  my  heart  leaps  forth  from  my  bosom." 

Why ;  which  of  your  affairs  goes  ill,  poor  wretch  ? 
Your  possessions  ?  No.  Your  body  ?  No.  But  you 
have  gold  and  brass  in  abundance.  What  then  goes 
ill  ?  That  part  of  you  is  neglected  and  corrupted, 
whatever  it  be  called,  by  which  we  desire,  and 
shrink  ;  by  which  we  pursue,  and  avoid.  How  neglect- 
ed ?  It  is  ignorant  of  that  for  which  it  was  naturally 
formed,  of  the  essence  of  good,  and  of  the  essence  of 
evil.  It  is  ignorant  what  is  its  own,  and  what  anoth- 
er's. And,  when  anything  belonging  to  others  goes 
ill,  it  says,  "  I  am  undone ;  the  Greeks  are  in  dan- 
ger !  "  (Poor  ruling  faculty  !  which  alone  is  neglect- 
ed, and  has  no  care  taken  of  it.)  "  They  will  die  by 
the  sword  of  the  Trojans !  "  And,  if  the  Trojans 
should  not  kill  them,  will  they  not  die  ?  "  Yes,  but 
not  all  at  once."  Why,  where  is  the  difference  ? 
For  if  it  be  an  evil  to  die,  then  whether  it  be  all  at 
once  or  singly,  it  is  equally  an  evil.  Will  anything 
more  happen  than  the  separation  of  soul  and  body  ? 
"  Nothing."  And,  when  the  Greeks  perish,  is  the 
door  shut  against  you  ?  Is  it  not  in  your  power  to 
die  ?     "  It  is."     Why  then  do  you  lament,  while  you 

*  Homer,  Iliad,  X.  15;  91-5.— H. 


248  THE   DISCOUKSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

are  a  king  and  hold  the  sceptre  of  Zeus  ?  A  king  is 
no  more  to  be  made  unfortunate  than  a  god.  What 
are  you,  then  ?  You  are  a  mere  shepherd,  truly  so 
called  ;  for  you  weep,  just  as  shepherds  do  when  the 
wolf  seizes  any  of  their  sheep  ;  and  they  who  are  gov- 
erned by  you  are  mere  sheep.  But  why  do  you 
come  hither  ?  Was  your  desire  in  any  danger  ? 
Your  aversion  ?  Your  pursuits  ?  Your  avoidances  ? 
"  No,"  he  says,  "  but  my  brother's  wife  has  been 
stolen."  Is  it  not  great  good  luck,  then,  to  be  rid  of 
an  adulterous  wife  ?  "  But  must  we  be  held  in  con- 
tempt by  the  Trojans?"  What  are  they?  Wise 
men,  or  fools  ?  If  wise,  why  do  you  go  to  war  with 
them  ?    If  fools,  why  do  you  heed  them  ? 

Where,  then,  does  our  good  lie,  since  it  does  not 
lie  in  these  things  ?  Tell  us,  sir,  you  who  are  our 
messenger  and  spy.  Where  you  do  not  think,  nor 
are  willing  to  seek  it.  For,  if  you  were  willing,  you 
would  find  it  in  yourselves ;  nor  would  you  wander 
abroad,  nor  seek  what  belongs  to  others,  as  your  own. 
Turn  your  thoughts  upon  yourselves.  Consider  the 
impressions  which  you  have.  What  do  you  imagine 
good  to  be  ?  What  is  prosperous,  happy,  unhindered. 
Well;  and  do  you  not  naturally  imagine  it  great? 
Do  you  not  imagine  it  valuable  ?  Do  you  not  ima- 
gine it  incapable  of  being  hurt  ?  Where  then,  must 
you  seek  prosperity  and  exemption  from  hindrance  ? 
In  that  which  is  enslaved,  or  free  ?  "  In  the  free." 
Is  your  body,  then,  enslaved,  or  free  ?  We  do  not 
know.  Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  the  slave  of  fever, 
gout,  defluxion,  dysentery ;  of  a  tyrant ;  of  fire,  steel ; 
of  everything  stronger  than  itself  ?  "  Yes,  it  is  a 
slave."  How,  then,  can  anything  belonging  to  the 
body  be  unhindered  ?     And  how  can  that  be  great 


THE  DISCOUESES  OF  EPICTETUS.  249 

or  valuable,  which  is  by  nature  lifeless,  earth,  clay  ? 
What,  then,  have  you  nothing  free  ?  "  Possibly  noth- 
ing." Why,  who  can  compel  you  to  assent  to  what 
appears  false  ?  No  one.  Or  who,  not  to  assent  to 
what  appears  true?  No  one.  Here,  then,  you  see 
that  there  is  something  in  you  naturally  free.  But 
which  of  you  can  desire  or  shun,  or  use  his  active 
powers  of  pursuit  or  avoidance,  or  prepare  or  plan 
anything,  unless  he  has  been  impressed  by  an  appear- 
ance of  its  being  for  his  advantage  or  his  duty  ?  No 
one.  You  have  then,  in  these  too,  something  unre- 
strained and  free.  Cultivate  this,  unfortunates  ;  take 
care  of  this  ;  seek  for  good  here.  "  But  how  is  it 
possible  that  a  man  destitute,  naked,  without  house 
or  home,  squalid,  unattended,  an  outcast,  can  lead 
a  prosperous  life  ?  "  See  ;  God  hath  sent  us  one,  to 
show  in  practice  that  it  is  possible.  "  Take  notice 
of  me  that  I  am  without  a  country,  without  a  house, 
without  an  estate,  without  a  servant;  I  lie  on  the 
ground ;  have  no  wife,  no  children,  no  coat ;  but 
have  only  earth  and  heaven  and  one  poor  cloak. 
And  what  need  I  ?  Am  not  I  without  sorrow,  with- 
out fear  ?  Am  not  I  free  ?  Did  any  of  you  ever  see 
me  disappointed  of  my  desire,  or  incurring  my  aver- 
sion ?  Did  I  ever  blame  God  or  man  ?  Did  I  ever 
accuse  any  one  ?  Have  any  of  you  seen  me  look  dis- 
contented ?  How  do  I  treat  those  whom  you  fear 
and  of  whom  you  are  struck  with  awe  ?  Is  it  not  like 
poor  slaves  ?  Who  that  sees  me  does  not  think  that 
he  sees  his  own  king  and  master  ?  "  This  is  the  lan- 
guage, this  the  character,  this  the  undertaking,  of  a 
Cynic.  No,  [but  you  think  only  of]  the  wallet  and  the 
staff  and  a  large  capacity  of  swallowing  and  appro- 
priating whatever  is  given  you ;  abusing  unseasona- 


250  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

bly  those  you  meet,  or  showing  your  bare  arm.  Do 
you  consider  how  you  shall  attempt  so  important 
an  undertaking?  First  take  a  mirror.  Yiew  your 
shoulders,  examine  your  back,  your  loins.  It  is  the 
Olympic  Games,  man,  for  which  you  are  to  be  entered ; 
not  a  poor  slight  contest.  In  the  Olympic  Games  a 
champion  is  not  allowed  merely  to  be  conquered  and 
depart ;  but  must  first  be  disgraced  in  the  view  of 
the  whole  world,  not  of  the  Athenians  alone,  or  Spar- 
tans, or  Nicopolitans  ;  and,  then,  he  who  has  prema- 
turely departed  must  be  whipped  too ;  and,  before 
that,  must  have  suffered  thirst,  and  heat,  and  have 
swallowed  an  abundance  of  dust. 

Consider  carefully,  know  yourself,  consult  the  Di- 
vinity ;  attempt  nothing  without  God ;  for,  if  he 
counsels  you,  be  assured  that  it  is  his  will,  whether 
that  you  should  become  eminent,  or  that  you  should 
suffer  many  a  blow.  For  there  is  this  fine  circum- 
stance connected  with  the  character  of  a  Cynic,  that 
lie  must  be  beaten  like  an  ass,  and  yet,  when  beaten, 
must  love  those  who  beat  him  as  the  father,  as  the 
brother  of  all. 

"  No,  to  be  sure ;  but,  if  anybody  beats  you,  stand 
publicly  and  roar  out  '  0  !  Caesar,  am  I  to  suffer 
such  things  in  breach  of  your  peace  ?  Let  us  go 
before  the  Proconsul. '  " 

But  what  is  Caesar  to  a  Cynic,  or  what  is  the  Pro- 
consul, or  any  one  else,  but  Zeus,  who  hath  deputed 
him,  and  whom  he  serves.  Does  he  invoke  any  other 
but  him  ?  And  is  he  not  persuaded  that,  whatever 
he  suffers  of  this  sort,  it  is  Zeus  who  doth  it  to  exer 
cise  him  ?  Now  Hercules,  when  he  was  exercised  by 
Eurystheus,  did  not  think  himself  miserable ;  but 
executed  with  alacrity  all  that  was  to  be  done.     And 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  251 

shall  he  who  is  appointed  to  the  combat,  and  exer- 
cised by  Zeus,  cry  out  and  take  offence  at  things  ?  A 
worthy  person,  truly,  to  bear  the  sceptre  of  Diogenes  ! 
Hear  what  he  in  a  fever,  said  to  those  who  were  pass- 
ing by.*  "  Foolish  men,  why  do  you  not  stay  ?  Do 
you  take  such  a  journey  to  Olympia  to  see  the  de- 
struction or  combat  of  the  champions  ;  and  have  you 
no  inclination  to  see  the  combat  between  a  man  and 
a  fever  ?  "  Such  a  one,  who  took  a  pride  in  difficult 
circumstances,  and  thought  himself  worthy  to  be  a 
spectacle  to  those  who  passed  by,  was  a  likely  per- 
son indeed  to  accuse  God,  who  had  deputed  him,  as 
treating  him  unworthily  !  For  what  subject  of  accu- 
sation shall  he  find  ?  That  he  preserves  a  decency 
of  behavior  ?  With  what  does  he  find  fault  ?  That 
he  sets  his  own  virtue  in  a  clearer  light  ?  Well ;  and 
what  does  he  say  of  poverty  ?  Of  death  ?  Of  pain  ? 
How  did  he  compare  his  happiness  with  that  of  the 
Persian  king ;  or  rather,  thought  it  beyond  compari- 
son !  For  amidst  perturbations,  and  griefs,  and  fears, 
and  disappointed  desires,  and  incurred  aversions,  how 
can  there  be  any  entrance  for  happiness  ?  And  where 
there  are  corrupt  principles,  there  must  all  these 
things  necessarily  be. 

—  The  same  young  man  inquiring,  whether,  if  a 

*  St.  Jerome,  cited  by  Mr.  Upton,  gives  the  following,  somewhat 
different  account  of  this  matter.  Diogenes,  as  he  was  going  to  the 
Olympic  Games,  was  taken  with  a  fever,  and  laid  himself  down  in 
the  road ;  his  friends  would  have  put  him  into  some  vehicle ;  but  he 
refused  it,  and  bid  them  go  on  to  the  show.  "  This  night,"  said  he, 
"  I  will  either  conquer,  or  be  conquered.  If  I  conquer  the  fever,  I 
will  come  to  the  games ;  if  it  conquers  me,  I  will  descend  to  Hades.' 
—  C. 

["  Si  febrim  vicero,  ad  Agonem  veniam  : 
Si  me  vicerit,  ad  inferna  descendam  " 

Jerome  adv.  Jovianum,  Lib.  II.  —  H.] 


252  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

friend  should  desire  to  come  to  him  and  take  care 
of  him  when  he  was  sick,  he  should  comply  ?  And 
where,  says  Epictetus,  will  you  find  me  the  friend  of 
a  Cynic  ?  For  to  be  worthy  of  being  numbered 
among  his  friends,  a  person  ought  to  be  such  another 
as  himself ;  he  ought  to  be  a  partner  of  the  sceptre 
and  the  kingdom,  and  a  worthy  minister,  if  he  would 
be  honored  with  his  friendship ;  as  Diogenes  was  the 
friend  of  Antisthenes ;  as  Crates,  of  Diogenes.  Do 
you  think  that  he  who  only  comes  to  him,  and  salutes 
him,  is  his  friend ;  and  that  he  will  think  him  worthy 
of  being  entertained  as  such  ?  If  such  a  thought 
comes  into  your  head,  rather  look  round  you  for 
some  desirable  dunghill  to  shelter  you  in  your  fever 
from  the  north  wind,  that  you  may  not  perish  by 
taking  cold.  But  you  seem  to  me  to  prefer  to  get 
into  somebody's  house,  and  to  be  well  fed  there 
awhile.  What  business  have  you  then,  even  to  at- 
tempt so  important  an  undertaking  as  this  ? 

"  But,"  said  the  young  man, "  will  marriage  and  pa- 
rentage be  recognized  as  important  duties  by  a  Cynic  ?  " 

Grant  me  a  community  of  sages,  and  no  one  there, 
perhaps,  will  readily  apply  himself  to  the  Cynic  phi- 
losophy. For  on  whose  account  should  he  there  em- 
brace that  method  of  life  ?  However,  supposing  he 
does,  there  will  be  nothing  to  restrain  him  from  mar- 
rying and  having  children.  For  his  wife  will  be  such 
another  as  himself;  his  father-in-law  such  another  as 
himself;  and  his  children  will  be  brought  up  in  the 
same  manner.  But  as  the  state  of  things  now  is,  like 
that  of  an  army  prepared  for  battle,  is  it  not  neces- 
sary that  a  Cynic  should  be  without  distraction ;  * 

*  It  is  remarkable,  that  Epictetus  here  uses  the  same  word  (drrt- 
pi<nrd<rr<0£)  with  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  vii.  35,  and  urges  the  same  consid- 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.       253 

entirely  attentive  to  the  service  of  God;  at  liberty 
to  walk  among  mankind,  not  tied  down  to  common 
duties,  nor  entangled  in  relations,  which  if  he  trans- 
gresses, he  will  no  longer  keep  the  character  of  a 
wise  and  good  man  ;  and  which  if  he  observes,  there 
is  an  end  of  him,  as  the  messenger,  and  spy,  and  her- 
ald of  the  gods  ?  For  consider,  there  are  some  offices 
due  to  his  father-in-law ;  some  to  the  other  relations 
of  his  wife  ;  some  to  his  wife  herself:  besides,  after 
this,  he  is  confined  to  the  care  of  his  family  when 
sick,  and  to  providing  for  their  support.  At  the  very 
least,  he  must  have  a  vessel  to  warm  water  in,  to 
bathe  his  child  ;  there  must  be  wool,  oil,  a  bed,  a 
cup,  for  his  wife,  after  her  delivery ;  and  thus  the 
furniture  increases  ;  more  business,  more  distraction. 
Where,  for  the  future,  is  this  king  whose  time  is  de- 
voted to  the  public  good  ? 

"  To  whom  the  people  are  trusted,  and  many  a  care."  * 

Who  ought  to  superintend  others,  married  men,  fath- 
ers of  children  ;  —  whether  one  treats  his  wife  well  or 
ill ;  who  quarrels ;  which  family  is  well  regulated  ; 
which  not ;  —  like  a  physician  who  goes  about  and 
feels  the  pulse  of  his  patients  :  "  You  have  a  fever  ; 
you  the  headache ;  you  the  gout.  Do  you  abstain 
from  food ;  do  you  eat ;  do  you  omit  bathing ;  you 
must  have  an  incision  made :  you  be  cauterized." 
Where  shall  he  have  leisure  for  this  who  is  tied  down 
to  common  duties  ?  Must  he  not  provide  clothes  for 
his  children ;  and  send  them  with  pens,  and  ink,  and 
paper,  to  a  schoolmaster  ?     Must  he  not  provide  a 

eration,  of  applying  wholly  to  the  service  of  God,  to  dissuade  from 
marriage.  —  C. 

*  Homer,  Iliad,  H.  25.  — H. 


254  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

bed  for  them,  —  for  they  cannot  be  Cynics  from 
their  very  birth?  —  Otherwise,  it  would  have  been 
better  to  expose  them,  as  soon  as  they  were  born, 
than  to  kill  them  thus.  Do  you  see  to  what  we  bring 
down  our  Cynic  ?  How  we  deprive  him  of  his  king- 
dom ?  "  Well,  but  Crates*  was  married.,,  The  case 
of  which  you  speak  was  a  particular  one,  arising  from 
love ;  and  the  woman  was  another  Crates.  But  we 
are  inquiring  about  ordinary  and  common  marriages ; 
and  in  this  inquiry  we  do  not  find  the  affair  much 
suited  to  the  condition  of  a  Cynic. 

"  How  then  shall  he  keep  up  society  ?  " 
For  Heaven's  sake,  do  they  confer  a  greater  bene- 
fit upon  the  world,  who  leave  two  or  three  brats  in 
their  stead,  than  those  who,  so  far  as  possible,  oversee 
all  mankind  ;  what  they  do,  how  they  live ;  what  they 
attend  to,  what  they  neglect,  in  spite  of  their  duty. 
Did  all  those  who  left  children  to  the  Thebans  do 
them  more  good  than  Epaminondas,  who  died  child- 
less ?  And  did  Priam  who  was  the  father  of  fifty 
profligates,  or  Danaus,  or  iEolus,  conduce  more  to 
the  advantage  of  society  than  Homer  ?  Shall  a  mili- 
tary command,  or  any  other  post,  then,  exempt  a 
man  from  marrying  and  becoming  a  father,  so  that 
he  shall  be  thought  to  have  made  sufficient  amends 
for  the  want  of  children ;  and  shall  not  the  kingdom 
of  a  Cynic  be  a  proper  compensation  for  it?  Per- 
haps we  do  not  understand  his  grandeur,  nor  duly 
represent  to  ourselves  the  character  of  Diogenes ; 
but  we  think  of  Cynics  as  they  are  now,  who  stand 

*  Crates,  a  rich  Theban,  gave  away  a  large  fortune,  and  assumed 
the  wallet  and  staff  of  a  Cynic  philosopher.  Hipparchia,  a  Thra- 
cian  lady,  forsook  wealth  and  friends  to  share  his  poverty,  in  spite  of 
his  advice  to  the  contrary.     Diogenes  Laertius :   Crates.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF   EPICTETTTS.  25~» 

like  dogs  watching  at  tables,  and  who  have  only  the 
lowest  things  in  common  with  the  others ;  else  things 
like  these  would  not  move  us,  nor  should  we  be  aston- 
ished that  a  Cynic  will  not  marry  nor  have  children. 
Consider,  sir,  that  he  is  the  father  of  mankind ;  that 
all  men  are  his  sons,  and  all  women  his  daughters. 
Thus  he  attends  to  all ;  thus  takes  care  of  all. 
What !  do  you  think  it  is  from  impertinence  that  he 
rebukes  those  he  meets  ?  He  does  it  as  a  father,  as  a 
brother,  as  a  minister  of  the  common  parent,  Zeus. 

Ask  me,  if  you  please,  too,  whether  a  Cynic  will 
engage  in  the  administration  of  the  commonwealth. 
What  commonwealth  do  you  inquire  after,  foolish 
man,  greater  than  what  he  administers  ?  Why  should 
he  harangue  among  the  Athenians  about  revenues 
and  taxes,  whose  business  it  is  to  debate  with  all 
mankind  ;  with  the  Athenians,  Corinthians,  and  Ro- 
mans, equally;  not  about  taxes  and  revenues,  or 
peace  and  war,  but  about  happiness  and  misery,  pros- 
perity and  adversity,  slavery  and  freedom.  Do  you 
ask  me  whether  a  man  engages  in  the  administration 
of  the  commonwealth  who  administers  such  a  com- 
monwealth as  this  ?  Ask  me,  too,  whether  he  will 
accept  any  command  ?  I  will  answer  you  again, 
What  command,  foolish  one,  is  greater  than  that 
which  he  now  exercises  ? 

But  he  has  need  of  a  constitution  duly  qualified ; 
for,  if  he  should  appear  consumptive,  thin,  and  pale, 
his  testimony  has  no  longer  the  same  authority.  For 
he  must  not  only  give  a  proof  to  the  vulgar,  by  the 
constancy  of  his  mind,  that  it  is  possible  to  be  a  man 
of  weight  and  merit  without  those  things  that  strike 
them  with  admiration  ;  but  he  must  show,  too,  by  his 
body,  that  a  simple  and  frugal  diet,  under  the  open 


256  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

air,  does  no  injury  to  the  constitution.  "  See,  I  and 
my  body  bear  witness  to  this."  As  Diogenes  did ; 
for  he  went  about  in  hale  condition,  and  gained  the 
attention  of  the  many  by  his  mere  physical  aspect. 
But  a  Cynic  in  poor  condition  seems  a  mere  beggar ; 
all  avoid  him,  all  are  offended  at  him  ;  for  he  ought 
not  to  appear  slovenly,  so  as  to  drive  people  from 
him ;  but  even  his  indigence  should  be  clean  and 
attractive. 

Much  natural  tact  and  acuteness  are  likewise  neces- 
sary in  a  Cynic  (otherwise  he  is  almost  worthless)  ; 
that  he  may  be  able  to  give  an  answer,  readily  and 
pertinently,  upon  every  occasion.  So  Diogenes,  to 
one  who  asked  him,  "  are  you  that  Diogenes  who 
does  not  believe  there  are  any  gods  ?  "  —  How  so,  re- 
plied he,  when  I  think  you  odious  to  them  ?  Again  ; 
when  Alexander  surprised  him  sleeping,  and  repeated, 

"  To  sleep  all  the  night  becomes  not  a  man  who  gives  counsel " ;  * 

before  he  was  quite  awake,  he  responded, 

"  To  whom  the  people  are  trusted,  and  many  a  care." 

But,  above  all,  the  reason  of  the  man  must  be 
clearer  than  the  sun  ;  otherwise  he  must  necessarily 
be  a  common  cheat  and  a  rascal,  if,  while  himself 
guilty  of  some  vice,  he  reproves  others.  For  consider 
how  the  case  stands.  Arms  and  guards  give  a  power 
to  common  kings  and  tyrants  of  reproving  and  of 
punishing  delinquents,  though  they  be  wicked  them- 
selves ;  but  to  a  Cynic,  instead  of  arms  and  guards, 
conscience  gives  this  power ;  when  he  knows  that  he 
has  watched  and  labored  for  mankind ;  that  he  has 
slept  pure,  and  waked  still  purer ;  and  that  he  hath 

*  Homer,  Iliad,  H.  24,  25.  — H. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP*  EPICTETUS.  257 

regulated  all  his  thoughts  as  the  friend,  as  the  minis- 
ter of  the  gods,  as  a  partner  of  the  empire  of  Zeus ; 
that  he  is  ready  to  say,  upon  all  occasions, 

"  Conduct  me,  Zeus,  and  thou,  O  Destiny."  * 

And,  "  if  it  thus  pleases  the  gods,  thus  let  it  be." 
Why  should  he  not  dare  to  speak  boldly  to  his  own 
brethren,  to  his  children  ;  in  a  word,  to  his  kindred  ? 
Hence  he,  who  is  thus  qualified,  is  neither  imperti- 
nent nor  a  busybody :  for  he  is  not  busied  about  the 
affairs  of  others,  but  his  own,  when  he  oversees  the 
transactions  of  men.  Otherwise  call  a  general  a  busy- 
body, when  he  oversees,  inspects,  and  watches  his  sol- 
diers and  punishes  the  disorderly.  But,  if  you  reprove 
others,  at  the  very  time  that  you  have  booty  under 
your  own  arm,  I  will  ask  you,  if  you  had  not  better 
go  into  a  corner,  and  eat  up  what  you  have  stolen  ? 
But  what  have  you  to  do  with  the  concerns  of  others  ? 
For  what  are  you  f  Are  you  the  bull  in  the  herd,  or 
the  queen  of  the  bees  ?  Show  me  such  ensigns  of  em- 
pire, as  she  has  from  nature.  But,  if  you  are  a  drone, 
and  arrogate  to  yourself  the  kingdom  of  the  bees,  do 
you  not  think  that  your  fellow-citizens  will  drive  you 
out,  just  as  the  bees  do  the  drones  ? 

A  Cynic  must,  besides,  have  so  much  patience  as 
to  seem  insensible  and  like  a  stone  to  the  vulgar.  No 
one  reviles,  no  one  beats,  no  one  affronts  him ;  but 
he  has  surrendered  his  body  to  be  treated  at  pleasure 
by  any  one  who  will.  For  he  remembers  that  the  infe- 
rior, in  whatever  respect  it  is  the  inferior,  must  be 
conquered  by  the  superior ;  and  the  body  is  inferior 
to  the  multitude,  the  weaker  to  the  stronger.  He 
never,  therefore,  enters  into  a  combat  where  he  can 

*  Cleanthes,  in  Diogenes  Laertius.  —  H. 
17 


258  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

be  conquered ;  but  immediately  gives  up  what  be- 
longs to  others;  he  does  not  claim  what  is  slavish 
and  dependent ;  but  in  what  concerns  Will  and  the 
use  of  things  as  they  appear,  you  will  see  that  he  has 
so  many  eyes,  you  would  say  Argus  was  blind  to  him. 
Is  his  assent  ever  precipitate?  His  pursuits  ever 
rash  ?  His  desire  ever  disappointed  ?  His  aversion 
ever  incurred  ?  His  aim  ever  fruitless  ?  Is  he  ever 
querulous,  ever  dejected,  ever  envious  ?  Here  lies 
all  his  attention  and  application.  With  regard  to 
other  things,  he  enjoys  profound  quiet.  All  is  peace. 
There  is  no  robber,  no  tyrant  for  the  Will.  But  there 
is  for  the  body  ?  Yes.  The  estate  ?  Yes.  Magis- 
tracies and  honors?  Yes.  And  what  cares  he  for 
these?  When  any  one,  therefore,  would  frighten 
"him  with  them,  he  says ;  "  Go  look  for  children ; 
masks  are  frightful  to  them ;  but  I  know  they  are 
only  shells,  and  have  nothing  within.,, 

Such  is  the  affair  about  which  you  are  deliberat- 
ing ;  therefore,  if  you  please,  for  Heaven's  sake,  defer 
it,  and  first  consider  how  you  are  prepared  for  it. 
Observe  what  Hector  says  to  Andromache : 

"  War  is  the  sphere  for  all  men,  and  for  me."  * 

Thus  conscious  was  he  of  his  own  qualifications  and 
of  her  weakness. 

*  Homer,  Iliad,  VI.  492,  493.— H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  259 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

CONCERNING   SUCH  AS   READ   AND   DISPUTE 
OSTENTATIOUSLY. 

FIRST,  say  to  yourself  what  you  would  be ;  and 
then  do  what  you  have  to  do.  For  in  almost 
everything  we  see  this  to  be  the  practice.  Olym- 
pic champions  first  determine  what  they  would  be, 
and  then  act  accordingly.  To  a  racer,  in  a  longer 
course,  there  must  be  one  kind  of  diet,  walking, 
anointing,  and  training;  to  one  in  a  shorter,  all 
these  must  be  different ;  and  to  a  Pentathlete,  still 
more  different.  You  will  find  the  case  the  same  in 
the  manual  arts.  If  a  carpenter,  you  must  have  such 
and  such  things ;  if  a  smith,  such  other.  For  if  we 
do  not  refer  each  of  our  actions  to  some  end,  we  shall 
act  at  random ;  if  to  an  improper  one,  we  shall  miss 
our  aim.  Further  ;  there  is  a  general  and  a  particu- 
lar end.  The  first  is,  to  act  as  a  man.  What  is 
comprehended  in  this  ?  To  be  gentle,  yet  not  sheep- 
ish ;  not  to  be  mischievous,  like  a  wild  beast.  But 
the  particular  end  relates  to  the  study  and  choice  of 
each  individual.  A  harper  is  to  act  as  a  harper ;  a 
carpenter,  as  a  carpenter  ;  a  philosopher,  as  a  philos- 
opher ;  an  orator,  as  an  orator.  When,  therefore,  you 
say,  "  Come,  and  hear  me  read,"  observe,  first,  not  to 
do  this  at  random ;  and,  in  the  next  place,  after  you 
have  found  to  what  end  you  refer  it,  consider  whether 
it  be  a  proper  one.  Would  you  be  useful,  —  or  be 
praised  ?  You  presently  hear  him  say,  "  What  do  I 
value  the  praise  of  the  multitude  ? "  And  he  says 
well ;  for  this  is  nothing  to  a  musician,  or  a  geome- 


260  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

trician,  as  such.  You  would  be  useful  then.  In 
what  ?  Tell  us,  that  we  too  may  run  to  make  part 
of  your  audience.  Now,  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to 
benefit  others,  who  has  received  no  benefit  himself  ? 
No ;  for  neither  can  he  who  is  not  a  carpenter,  or  a 
shoemaker,  benefit  any  one  in  respect  to  those  arts. 
Would  you  know,  then,  whether  you  have  received 
benefit  ?  Produce  your  principles,  philosopher.  What 
is  the  aim  and  promise  of  desire  ?  Not  to  be  disap- 
pointed. What  of  aversion  ?  Not  to  be  incurred. 
Come,  do  we  fulfil  this  promise  ?  Tell  me  the  truth ; 
but,  if  you  falsify,  I  will  tell  it  to  you.  The  other  day, 
when  your  audience  came  but  coldly  together,  and 
did  not  receive  what  you  said  with  acclamations  of 
applause,  you  went  away  dejected.  Again  ;  the  oth- 
er day  when  you  were  praised,  you  went  about  asking 
everybody,  "  What  did  you  think  of  me?"  —  " Upon 
my  life,  sir,  it  was  prodigious."  —  "But  how  did 
I  express  myself  upon  that  subject  ?  "  —  "  Which  ?  " 
— "  Where  I  gave  a  description  of  Pan  and  the 
Nymphs."  *  —  "  Most  excellently."  And  do  you  tell 
me,  after  this,  that  you  regulate  your  desires  and 
aversions  conformably  to  Nature  ?  Get  you  gone ! 
Persuade  somebody  else. 

Did  not  you,  the  other  day,  praise  a  man  contrary 
to  your  own  opinion  ?  Did  not  you  natter  a  certain 
senator  ?  Yet  would  you  wish  your  own  children  to 
be  like  him  ?  "  Heaven  forbid !  "  Why  then  did  you 
praise  and  cajole  him  ?  "  He  is  an  ingenuous  young 
man,  and  attentive  to  discourses."  How  so  ?  u  He 
admires  me."  Now  indeed  you  have  produced  your 
proof. 

*  Mr.  Upton  observes  that  these  florid  descriptions  were  the  prin- 
cipal study  of  the  Sophists.  —  C. 


0 

THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  261 

After  all,  what  do  you  think  ?  Do  not  these  very 
people  secretly  despise  you  ?  When  a  man  conscious 
of  no  good  action  or  intention  finds  some  philosopher 
saying,  "  You  are  a  great  genius,  and  of  a  frank  and 
candid  disposition  "  ;  what  do  you  think  he  says,  but, 
"  This  man  has  some  need  of  me."  Pray  tell  me 
what  mark  of  a  great  genius  he  has  shown.  You 
see  he  has  long  conversed  with  you,  has  heard  your 
discourses,  has  attended  your  lectures.  Has  he  turn- 
ed his  attention  to  himself?  Has  he  perceived  his 
own  faults  ?  Has  he  thrown  off  his  conceit  ?  Does 
he  seek  an  instructor  ?  "  Yes,  he  does."  An  in- 
structor how  to  live  ?  No,  fool,  but  how  to  talk ;  for 
it  is  upon  this  account  that  he  admires  you.  Hear 
what  he  says  :  "  This  man  writes  with  very  great  art, 
and  much  more  finely  than  Dion."  That  is  quite  an- 
other thing.  Does  he  say,  This  is  a  modest,  faithful, 
calm  person  ?  But  if  he  said  this  too,  I  would  ask 
him,  if  he  is  faithful,  what  it  is  to  be  faithful  ?  And 
if  he  could  not  tell,  I  would  add,  "  First  learn  the 
meaning  of  what  you  say,  and  then  speak." 

While  you  are  in  this  bad  disposition,  then,  and 
gaping  after  applauders,  and  counting  your  hearers, 
can  you  be  of  benefit  to  others  ?  "  To-day  I  had 
many  more  hearers."  —  "  Yes,  many  ;  we  think  there 
were  five  hundred."  —  "You  say  nothing;  estimate 
them  at  a  thousand."  — "  Dion  never  had  so  great  an 
audience."  —  "  How  should  he  ?  "  —  "  And  they  have 
a  fine  taste  for  discourses."  — "  What  is  excellent, 
sir,  will  move  even  a  stone."  —  Here  is  the  language 
of  a  philosopher !  Here  is  the  disposition  of  one  who 
is  to  be  beneficial  to  mankind !  "Here  is  the  man, 
attentive  to  discourses  !  Who  has  read  the  works  of 
the  Socratic  philosophers,  as  such ;  not  as  if  they  were 


262  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

the  writings  of  orators,  like  Lysias  and  Isocrates.  "  I 
have  often  wondered  by  what  arguments  —  "*  No; 
"  By  what  argument "  ;  that  is  the  more  perfectly 
accurate  expression.  Is  this  to  have  read  them  any 
otherwise  than  as  you  read  little  pieces  of  poetry  ? 
If  you  read  them  as  you  ought,  you  would  not  dwell 
on  such  trifles,  but  would  rather  consider  such  a 
passage  as  this :  "  Anytus  and  Melitus  may  kill,  but 
they  cannot  hurt  me."  And  "  I  am  always  so  dis- 
posed as  to  defer  to  none  of  my  friends,  but  to  that 
reason  which,  after  examination,  appears  to  me  to 
be  the  best."  f  Hence,  who  ever  heard  Socrates 
say,  "  I  know,  or  teach  anything  "  ?  But  he  sent  dif- 
ferent people  to  different  instructors ;  they  came  to 
him,  desiring  to  be  introduced  to  the  philosophers; 
and  he  took  them  and  introduced  them.  No ;  but 
[you  think]  as  he  accompanied  them  he  used  to  give 
them  such  advice  as  this  :  "  Hear  me  discourse  to-day 
at  the  house  of  Quadratus."  Why  should  I  hear 
you  ?  Have  you  a  mind  to  show  me  how  finely  you 
put  words  together,  sir  ?  And  what  good  does  that 
do  you  ?  "  But  praise  me."  What  do  you  mean  by 
praising  you  ?  "  Say,  Incomparable !  prodigious !  " 
Well ;  I  do  say  it.  But  if  praise  be  that  which  the 
philosophers  call  by  the  appellation  of  good,  what  have 
I  to  praise  you  for?  If  it  be  good  to  speak  well, 
teach  me,  and  I  will  praise  you.  "  What,  then,  ought 
these  things  to  be  heard  without  pleasure  ?  "  By  no 
means.  I  do  not  hear  even  a  harper  without  pleas- 
ure ;  but  am  I  therefore  to  devote  myself  to  playing 

*  These  words  are  the  beginning  of  Xenophon's  Memoirs  of  Soc- 
rates ;  and  it  was  a  debate  among  the  minute  critics,  whether  argu- 
ment or  arguments  was  the  proper  reading.  —  C. 

t  Plato,  Apology,  §  18;  Crito,  §  6.—  H. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  263 

upon  the  harp?  Hear  what  Socrates  says  to  his 
judges.  "  It  would  not  be  decent  for  me  to  appear 
before  you,  at  this  age,  composing  speeches  like  a 
boy."  *  Like  a  boy,  he  says.  For  it  is,  without 
doubt,  a  pretty  accomplishment  to  select  words  and 
place  them  together,  and  then  to  read  or  speak  them 
gracefully  in  public ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  dis- 
course to  observe  that  "  he  vows  by  all  that  is  good, 
there  are  but  few  capable  of  these  things."  But  does 
a  philosopher  apply  to  people  to  hear  him  ?  Does 
he  not  attract  those  who  are  fitted  to  receive  benefit 
from  him,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  sun  or  their  ne- 
cessary food  does  ?  What  physician  applies  to  any- 
body to  be  cured  by  him  ?  (Though  now  indeed  I 
hear  that  the  physicians  at  Rome  apply  for  patients ; 
but  in  my  time  they  were  applied  to.)  "I  apply  to 
you  to  come  and  hear  that  you  are  in  a  bad  way, 
and  that  you  take  care  of  everything  but  what  you 
ought;  that  you  know  not  what  is  good  or  evil,  and 
are  unfortunate  and  unhappy."  A  fine  application  ! 
And  yet,  unless  the  discourse  of  a  philosopher  has 
this  effect,  both  that  and  the  speaker  are  lifeless. 

Rufus  used  to  say,  "  If  you  are  at  leisure  to  praise 
me,  I  speak  to  no  purpose."  And  indeed  he  used  to 
speak  in  such  a  manner,  that  each  of  us  who  heard 
him  supposed  that  some  person  had  accused  us  to 
him  ;  he  so  precisely  hit  upon  what  was  done  by  us, 
and  placed  the  faults  of  every  one  before  his  eyes. 

The  school  of  a  philosopher  is  a  surgery.  You 
are  not  to  go  out  of  it  with  pleasure,  but  with  pain  ; 
for  you  do  not  come  there  in  health  ;  but  one  of  you 
has  a  dislocated  shoulder ;  another,  an  abscess ;  a 
third,  a  fistula ;  a  fourth,  the  headache.     And  am  I, 

*  Plato,  Apology,  §  1.  —  H. 


264  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

then,  to  sit  uttering  pretty,  trifling  thoughts  and  lit- 
tle exclamations,  that,  when-  you  have  praised  me, 
you  may  each  of  you  go  away  with  the  same  dislo- 
cated shoulder,  the  same  aching  head,  the  same  fis- 
tula, and  the  same  abscess  that  you  brought  ?  And 
is  it  for  this  that  young  men  are  to  travel  ?  And  do 
they  leave  their  parents,  their  friends,  their  relations, 
and  their  estates,  that  they  may  praise  you  while  you 
are  uttering  little  exclamations  ?  Was  this  the  prac- 
tice of  Socrates  ?     Of  Zeno  ?     Of  Cleanthes  ? 

What  then !  is  there  not  in  speaking  a  style  and 
manner  of  exhortation  ?  Who  denies  it  ?  Just  as 
there  is  a  manner  of  confutation  and  of  instruction. 
But  who  ever,  therefore,  added  that  of  ostentation  for 
a  fourth  ?  For  in  what  doth  the  hortatory  manner 
consist  ?  In  being  able  to  show,  to  one  and  all,  the 
contradictions  in  which  they  are  involved ;  and  that 
they  care  for  everything  rather  than  what  they  mean 
to  care  for :  for  they  mean  the  things  conducive  to 
happiness,  but  they  seek  them  where  they  are  not  to 
be  found.  To  effect  this,  must  a  thousand  seats  be 
placed,  and  an  audience  invited ;  and  you,  in  a  fine 
robe  or  cloak,  ascend  the  rostrum,  and  describe  the 
death  of  Achilles  ?  Forbear,  for  Heaven's  sake,  to 
bring,  so  far  as  you  are  able,  good  works  and  prac- 
tices into  disgrace.  Nothing,  to  be  sure,  gives  more 
force  to  exhortation,  than  when  the  speaker  shows 
that  he  has  need  of  the  hearers ;  but  tell  me  who, 
when  he  hears  you  reading  or  speaking,  is  solicitous 
about  himself?  Or  turns  his  attention  upon  himself  ? 
Or  says,  when  he  is  gone  away,  "  The  philosopher  hit 
me  well."  Instead  of  this,  even  though  you  are  in 
high  vogue,  one  hearer  merely  remarks  to  another, 
"  He  spoke  finely  about  Xerxes !  "  —  "  No,"  says  the 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  265 

other ;  "  but  on  the  battle  of  Thermopylae  !  "     Is  this 
the  audience  for  a  philosopher  ? 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THAT   WE    OUGHT   NOT   TO   BE   AFFECTED    BY   THINGS 
NOT   IN    OUR    OWN   POWER. 

LET  not  another's  disobedience  to  Nature  become 
an  ill  to  you ;  for  you  were  not  born  to  be  de- 
pressed and  unhappy  with  others,  but  to  be  happy 
with  them.  And  if  any  is  unhappy,  remember  that 
he  is  so  for  himself;  for  God  made  all  men  to  enjoy 
felicity  and  peace.  He  hath  furnished  all  with  means 
for  this  purpose ;  having  given  them  some  things  for 
their  own  ;  others,  not  for  their  own.  Whatever  is 
subject  to  restraint,  compulsion,  or  deprivation  is  not 
their  own ;  whatever  is  not  subject  to  restraint  is 
their  own.  And  the  essence  of  good  and  evil  He  has 
placed  in  things  which  are  our  own ;  as  it  became 
Him  who  provides  for,  and  protects  us,  with  paternal 
care. 

"  But  I  have  parted  with  such  a  one,  and  he  is 
therefore  in  grief." 

And  why  did  he  esteem  what  belonged  to  another 
his  own  ?  Why  did  he  not  consider,  while  lie  was 
happy  in  seeing  you,  that  you  are  mortal,  that  you 
are  liable  to  change  your  abode  ?  Therefore  he  bears 
the  punishment  of  his  own  folly.  But  to  what  pur- 
pose, or  for  what  cause,  do  you  too  suffer  depression 
of  spirits  ?  Have  you  not  studied  these  things  ?  Like 
trifling,  silly  women,  have  you  regarded  the  things 
you  took  delight  in,  the  places,  the  persons,  the  con- 


266  THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

versations,  as  if  they  were  to  last  for  ever ;  and  do 
you  now  sit  crying,  because  you  do  not  see  the  same 
people,  nor  live  in  the  same  place  ?  Indeed,  you  de- 
serve to  be  so  overcome,  and  thus  to  become  more 
wretched  than  ravens  or  crows,  which,  without  groan- 
ing or  longing  for  their  former  state,  can  fly  where 
they  will,  build  their  nests  in  another  place,  and  cross 
the  seas. 

"  Ay,  but  this  happens  from  their  want  of  reason." 
Was  reason  then  given  to  us  by  the  gods,  for  the 
purpose  of  unhappiness  and  misery,  to  make  us  live 
wretched  and  lamenting  ?  0,  by  all  means,  let  every 
one  be  deathless !  Let  nobody  go  from  home  !  Let 
us  never  go  from  home  ourselves,  but  remain  rooted 
to  a  spot,  like  plants !  And  if  any  of  our  acquaint- 
ance should  quit  his  abode,  let  us  sit  and  cry ;  and 
when  he  comes  back,  let  us  dance  and  clap  our  hands 
like  children.  Shall  we  never  wean  ourselves,  and 
remember  what  we  have  heard  from  the  philoso- 
phers,—  unless  we  have  heard  them  only  as  juggling 
enchanters  ;  —  that  the  universe  is  one  great  city, 
and  the  substance  one  of  which  it  is  formed ;  that 
there  must  necessarily  be  a  certain  rotation  of  things  ; 
that  some  must  give  way  to  others,  some  be  dissolved, 
and  others  rise  in  their  stead ;  some  remain  in  the 
same  situation,  and  others  be  moved ;  but  that  all  is 
,full  of  beloved  ones,  first  of  the  gods,  and  then  of 
men,  by  nature  endeared  to  each  other ;  that  some 
must  be  separated,  others  live  together,  rejoicing  in 
the  present,  and  not  grieving  for  the  absent :  and  that 
man,  besides  a  natural  greatness  of  mind  and  con- 
tempt of  things  independent  on  his  own  will,  is  like- 
wise formed  not  to  be  rooted  to  the  earth,  but  to  go 
at  different  times  to  different  places ;  sometimes  on 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  267 

urgent  occasions,  and  sometimes  merely  for  the  sake 
of  observation.     Such  was  the  case  of  Ulysses,  who 

"  Saw  the  cities  and  watched  the  hahits  of  various  men."  * 

And,  even  before  him,  of  Hercules,  to  travel  over  the 
habitable  world, 

"  Observing  manners,  good  or  ill,  of  men." 

To  expel  and  clear  away  the  one,  and,  in  its  stead, 
to  introduce  the  other.  Yet  how  many  friends  do 
you  not  think  he  must  have  at  Thebes  ?  How  many 
at  Argos  ?  How  many  at  Athens  ?  And  how  many 
did  he  acquire  in  his  travels  ?  He  married,  too,  when 
he  thought  it  a  proper  time,  and  became  a  father,  and 
then  quitted  his  children  ;  not  lamenting  and  longing 
for  them,  nor  as  if  he  had  left  them  orphans  ;  for  he 
knew  that  no  human  creature  is  an  orphan,  but  that 
there  is  a  father,  who  always,  and  without  intermis- 
sion, takes  care  of  all.  For  he  had  not  merely  heard 
it  as  matter  of  talk,  that  Zeus  was  the  Father  of 
Mankind ;  but  he  esteemed  and  called  him  his  own 
Father,  and  performed  all  that  he  did  with  a  view  to 
Him.  Hence  he  was,  in  every  place,  able  to  live  hap- 
py. But  it  is  never  possible  to  make  happiness  con- 
sistent with  a  longing  after  what  is  not  present.  For 
true  happiness  implies  the  possession  of  all  which  is 
desired,  as  in  case  of  satiety  with  food ;  there  must 
be  no  thirst,  no  hunger. 

"  But  Ulysses  longed  for  his  wife,  and  sat  weeping 
on  a  rock." 

Why  do  you  regard  Homer  and  his  fables  in  every- 
thing ?  Or,  if  Ulysses  really  did  weep,  what  was  he 
but  a  wretched  man  ?     But  what  wise  and  good  man 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  I.  3.     Afterwards,  XV.  487.  — H. 


268  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

is  wretched  ?  The  universe  is  surely  but  ill  governed, 
if  Zeus  does  not  take  care  that  his  subjects  may  be 
happy  like  himself.  But  these  are  unlawful  and  pro- 
fane thoughts  ;  and  Ulysses,  if  he-  did  indeed  cry  and 
bewail  himself,  was  not  a  good  man.  For  who  can 
be  a  good  man  who  does  not  know  what  he  is  ?  And 
who  knows  this,  and  yet  forgets  that  all  things  made 
are  perishable ;  and  that  it  is  not  possible  for  man 
and  man  always  to  live  together  ?  What  then  ?  To 
desire  impossibilities  is  base  and  foolish :  it  is  the  be- 
havior of  a  stranger  [to  the  world]  ;  of  one  who  fights 
against  God  in  the  only  way  he  can,  by  holding  false 
principles. 

"But  my  mother  grieves  when  she  does  not  see 
me." 

And  why  has  not  she  learned  these  doctrines  ?  I 
do  not  say  that  care  ought  not  to  be  taken  that  she 
may  not  lament ;  but  that  we  are  not  to  insist  abso- 
lutely upon  what  is  not  in  our  own  power.  Now  the 
grief  of  another  is  not  in  my  power;  but  my  own 
grief  is.  I  will  therefore  absolutely  suppress  my 
own,  for  that  is  in  my  power  ;  and  I  will  endeavor  to 
suppress  another's  grief  so  far  as  I  am  able ;  but  I 
will  not  insist  upon  it  absolutely,  otherwise  I  shall 
fight  against  God  ;  I  shall  resist  Zeus,  and  oppose 
him  in  the  administration  of  the  universe.  And  not 
only  my  children's  children  will  bear  the  punishment 
of  this  disobedience  and  fighting  against  God,  but  I 
myself  too ;  starting,  and  full  of  perturbation,  both 
in  the  day-time  and  in  my  nightly  dreams  ;  trembling 
at  every  message,  and  having  my  peace  dependent  on 
intelligence  from  others.  "  Somebody  is  come  from 
Rome."  "  I  trust  no  harm  has  happened."  Why, 
what  harm  can  happen  to  you  whore  you  are  not  ? 


THE  DISCOUKSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  269 

"  From  Greece."  —  "  No  harm,  I  hope."  Why,  at 
this  rate,  every  place  may  be  the  cause  of  misfortune 
to  you.  Is  it  not  enough  for  you  to  be  unfortunate 
where  you  are,  but  it  must  happen  beyond  sea,  too, 
and  by  letters  ?  Such  is  the  security  of  your  condi- 
tion ! 

"  But  what  if  my  friends  there  should  be  dead  ?  " 
What,  indeed,  but  that  those  are  dead  who  were 
born  to  die  ?  Do  you  at  once  wish  to  grow  old,  and 
yet  not  to  see  the  death  of  any  one  you  love  ?  Do 
you  not  know  that,  in  a  long  course  of  time,  many 
and  various  events  must  necessarily  happen  ?  That 
a  fever  must  get  the  better  of  one  ;  a  highwayman,  of 
another  ;  a  tyrant,  of  a  third  ?  For  such  is  the  world 
we  live  in  ;  such  they  who  live  in  it  with  us.  Heats 
and  colds,  improper  diet,  journeys,  voyages,  winds, 
and  various  accidents  destroy  some,  banish  others ; 
destine  one  to  an  embassy,  another  to  a  camp.  And 
now,  pray,  will  you  sit  in  consternation  about  all 
these  things  ;  lamenting,  disappointed,  wretched,  de- 
pendent on  another;  and  not  on  one  or  two  only, 
but  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand ! 

Is  this  what  you  have  heard  from  the  philosophers  ? 
This  what  you  have  learned?  Do  you  not  know 
what  sort  of  a  thing  warfare  is  ?  One  must  keep 
guard,  another  go  out  for  a  spy,  another  even  to  bat- 
tle. It  is  neither  possible,  nor  indeed  desirable,  that 
all  should  be  in  the  same  place  ;  but  you,  neglecting 
to  perform  the  orders  of  your  General,  complain 
whenever  anything  a  little  hard  is  commanded  ;  and 
do  not  consider  what  influence  you  have  on  the  army, 
so  far  as  lies  in  your  power.  For,  if  all  should  imi- 
tate you,  nobody  will  dig  a  trench,  or  throw  up  a 
rampart,  or  stand  guard,  or  expose  himself  to  dan- 


270  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

ger,  but  every  one  will  appear  useless  to  the  expe- 
dition. Again ;  if  you  were  a  sailor  in  a  voyage, 
suppose  you  were  to  fix  upon  one  place,  and  there 
remain  ?  If  it  should  be  necessary  to  climb  the  mast, 
refuse  to  do  it ;  if  to  run  to  the  bow  of  the  ship,  re- 
fuse to  do  it !  And  what  captain  would  tolerate  you  ? 
Would  he  not  throw  you  overboard  as  a  useless  piece 
of  goods  and  mere  luggage,  and  a  bad  example  to  the 
other  sailors  ?  Thus,  also,  in  the  present  case  ;  every 
one's  life  is  a  warfare,  and  that  long  and  various. 
You  must  observe  the  duty  of  a  soldier,  and  perform 
everything  at  the  nod  of  your  General,  and  even,  if 
possible,  divine  what  he  would  have  done.  For  there 
is  no  comparison  between  the  above-mentioned  Gen- 
eral and  this  whom  you  now  obey,  either  in  power  or 
excellence  of  character.  You  are  placed  in  an  exten- 
sive command,  and  not  in  a  mean  post ;  your  life  is 
a  perpetual  magistracy  ?  -Do  you  not  know  that  such 
a  one  must  spend  but  little  time  on  his  affairs  at 
home ;  but  be  much  abroad,  either  commanding  or 
obeying ;  attending  on  the  duties  either  of  a  magis- 
trate, a  soldier,  or  a  judge  ?  And  now,  pray,  would 
you  be  fixed  and  rooted  on  the  same  spot,  like  a 
plant  ? 

"  Why  ;  it  is  pleasant." 

Who  denies  it  ?  And  so  is  a  ragout  pleasant,  and 
a  fine  woman  is  pleasant.  Is  not  this  just  what  they 
say  who  make  pleasure  their  end  ?  Do  you  not  per- 
ceive whose  language  you  have  spoken  ?  That  of  Epi- 
cureans and  debauchees.  And  while  you  follow  their 
practices  and  hold  their  principles,  do  you  talk  to  us 
of  the  doctrines  of  Zeno  and  Socrates  ?  Why  do  you 
not  throw  away  as  far  as  possible  those  assumed  traits 
which  belong  to  others,  and  with  which  you  have 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  271 

nothing  to  do  ?  What  else  do  the  Epicureans  desire 
than  to  sleep  without  hindrance,  and  rise  without 
compulsion  ;  and  when  they  have  risen,  to  yawn  at 
their,  leisure  and  wash  their  faces ;  then  write  and 
read  what  they  please  ;  then  prate  about  some  trifle 
or  other,  and  be  applauded  by  their  friends,  what- 
ever they  say ;  then  go  out  for  a  walk,  and,  after 
they  have  taken  a  turn,  bathe,  and  then  eat,  and 
then  to  bed  ;  in  what  manner  they  spend  their  time 
there,  why  should  one  say  ?  For  it  is  easily  guessed. 
Come  now ;  do  you  also  tell  me  what  course  of  life 
you  desire  to  lead,  who  are  a  zealot  for  truth,  and 
Diogenes,  and  Socrates?  What  would  you  do  at 
Athens  ?  These  very  same  things  ?  Why  then  do 
you  call  yourself  a  Stoic  ?  They  who  falsely  pretend 
to  the  Roman  citizenship  are  punished  severely  ;  and 
must  those  be  dismissed  with  impunity  who  falsely 
claim  so  great  a  thing,  and  so  venerable  a  title,  as  you? 
Or  is  not  this  impossible ;  and  is  there'  not  a  divine, 
and  powerful,  and  inevitable  law,  which  exacts  the 
greatest  punishments  from  those  who  are  guilty  of 
the  greatest  offences  ?  For  what  says  this  law  ?  —  Let 
him  who  claims  what  belongs  not  to  him  be  arrogant, 
be  vainglorious,  be  base,  be  a  slave ;  let  him  grieve, 
let  him  envy,  let  him  pity ;  and  in  a  word,  let  him 
lament  and  be  miserable. 

"  What  then !  would  you  have  me  pay  my  court  to 
such  a  one  ?    Would  you  have  me  frequent  his  door  ?  " 

If  reason  requires  it  for  your  country,  for  your 
relations,  for  mankind,  why  should  you  not  go? 
You  are  not  ashamed  to  go  to  the  door  of  a  shoe- 
maker when  you  want  shoes  ;  nor  of  a  gardener  when 
you  want  lettuce.  Why  then  in  regard  to  the  rich, 
when  you  have  some  similar  want  ? 


272  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

"  Ay  ;  but  I  need  not  be  awed  before  a  shoemaker." 

Nor  before  a  rich  man. 

"  I  need  not  natter  a  gardener." 

Nor  a  rich  man. 

"  How,  then,  shall  I  get  what  I  want  ?  " 

Why,  do  I  bid  you  go  in  expectation  of  getting  it  ? 
No ;  only  that  you  may  do  your  duty. 

"  Why,  then,  after  all,  should  I  go  ?  " 

That  you  may  have  gone ;  that  you  may  have  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  a  citizen,  of  a  brother,  of  a 
friend.  And,  after  all,  remember,  that  you  are  go- 
ing as  if  to  a  shoemaker,  to  a  gardener,  who  has  no 
monopoly  of  anything  great  or  respectable,  though  he 
should  sell  it  ever  so  dear.  You  are  going  as  if  to 
buy  lettuces,  worth  an  obolus,  but  by  no  means  worth 
a  talent.  So  here  too,  if  the  matter  is  worth  going  to 
his  door  about,  I  will  go  ;  if  it  is  worth  talking  with 
him  about,  I  will  talk  with  him.  But  if  one  must  kiss 
his  hand,  too, -and  cajole  him  with  praise;  that  is  pay- 
ing too  dear.  It  is  not  expedient  for  myself,  nor  my 
country,  nor  my  fellow-citizens,  nor  my  friends,  to  de- 
stroy what  constitutes  the  good  citizen  and  the  friend. 

"  But  one  will  appear  not  to  have  set  heartily 
about  the  business,  if  one  thus  fails." 

What,  have  you  again  forgotten  why  you  went? 
Do  you  not  know  that  a  wise  and  good  man  does 
nothing  for  appearance ;  but  everything  for  the  sake 
of  having  acted  well  ? 

"  What  advantage  is  it,  then,  to  him,  to  have  acted 
well  ? " 

What  advantage  is  it  to  one  who  writes  down 
the  name  of  Dion  without  a  blunder  ?  The  having 
written  it. 

"  Is  there  no  reward,  then  ?  " 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  273 

Why ;  do  you  'seek  any  greater  reward  for  a  good 
man  than  the  doing  what  is  fair  and  just  ?  And  yet, 
at  Olympia,  you  desire  nothing  else ;  but  think  it 
enough  to  be  crowned  victor.  Does  it  appear  to  you 
so  small  and  worthless  a  thing  to  be  just,  good,  and 
happy  ?  Besides  ;  being  introduced  by  God  into  this 
Great  City  [the  world]  and  bound  to  discharge  at 
this  time  the  duties  of  a  man,  do  you  still  want 
nurses  and  a  mamma ;  and  are  you  conquered  and 
effeminated  by  the  tears  of  poor  weak  women  ?  Are 
you  thus  determined  never  to  cease  being  an  infant  ? 
Do  not  you  know  that,  if  one  acts  like  a  child,  the 
older  he  is,  so  much  the  more  he  is  ridiculous  ? 

Did  you  never  visit  any  one  at  Athens  at  his  own 
house  ? 

"  Yes ;  whomsoever  I  pleased." 

Why  ;  now  you  are  here,  be  willing  to  visit  this  per- 
son, and  you  will  still  see  whom  you  please  ;  only 
let, it  be  without  meanness,  without  undue  desire  or 
aversion,  and  your  affairs  will  go  well ;  but  their 
going  well,  or  not,  does  not  consist  in  going  to  the 
house  and  standing  at  the  door,  or  the  contrary ; 
but  lies  within,  in  your  own  principles  ;  when  you 
have  acquired  a  contempt  for  things  uncontrollable 
by  Will,  and  esteem  none  of  them  your  own,  but 
hold  that  what  belongs  to  you  is  only  to  judge  and 
think,  to  exert  rightly  your  aims,  your  desires,  and 
aversions.  What  further  room  is  there  after  this  for 
flattery,  for  meanness  ?  Why  do  you  still  long  for 
the  quiet  you  elsewhere  enjoyed ;  for  places  familiar 
to  you  ?  Stay  a  little,  and  these  will  become  familiar 
to  you  in  their  turn ;  and,  then,  if  you  are  so  mean- 
spirited,  you  may  weep  and  lament  again  on  leaving 
these. 

18 


274  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

"  How,  then,  am  I  to  preserve  an  affectionate  dis- 
position ? " 

As  becomes  a  noble-spirited  and  happy  person. 
For  reason  will  never  tell  you  to  be  dejected  and 
broken-hearted  ;  or  to  depend  on  another ;  or  to 
reproach  either  God  or  man.  Be  affectionate  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  observe  all  this.  But  if,  from 
affection,  as  you  call  it,  you  are  to  be  a  slave  and 
miserable,  it  is  not  worth  your  while  to  be  affection- 
ate. And  what  restrains  you  from  loving  any  one  as 
a  mortal,  —  as  a  person  who  may  be  obliged  to  quit 
you  ?  Pray  did  not  Socrates  love  his  own  children  ? 
But  it  was  as  became  one  who  was  free,  and  mindful 
that  his  first  duty  was,  to  gain  the  love  of  the  gods. 
Hence  he  violated  no  part  of  the  character  of  a  good 
man,  either  in  his  defence  or  in  fixing  a  penalty  on 
himself.*  Nor  yet  before,  when  he  was  a  senator, 
or  a  soldier.  But  we  make  use  of  every  pretence 
to  be  mean-spirited ;  some,  on  account  of  a  child , 
some,  of  a  mother ;  and  some,  of  a  brother.  But  it 
is  not  fit  to  be  unhappy  on  account  of  any  one ;  but 
happy  on  account  of  all ;  and  chiefly  of  God,  who 
has  constituted  us  for  this  purpose.  What!  did 
Diogenes  love  nobody ;  who  was  so  gentle  and  be- 
nevolent as  cheerfully  to  undergo  so  many  pains  and 

*  It  was  the  custom  at  Athens,  in  cases  where  no  fixed  punish- 
ment was  appointed  by  the  law,  before  the  judges  gave  sentence,  to 
ask  the  criminal  himself  what  penalty  he  thought  he  deserved.  Soc- 
rates refused  either  to  comply  with  this  form  himself,  or  suffer  any 
of  his  friends  to  do  it  for  him;  alleging  that  the  naming  a  penalty 
was  a  confession  of  guilt.  When  the  judges  therefore  asked  him 
what  penalty  he  thought  he  deserved,  ho  answered,  "  The  highest 
honors  and  rewards,  and  to  be  maintained  in  the  Prytaneum  at  the 
■public  expense."  An  answer  which  so  extremely  irritated  his  judges, 
that  they  immediately  condemned  him  to  death.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  275 

miseries  of  body  for  the  common  good  of  mankind  ? 
Yes,  he  did  love  them  ;  but  how  ?  As  became  a  min- 
ister of  Zeus ;  at  once  caring  for  men,  and  obedient 
to  God.  Hence  the  whole  earth,  not  any  particular 
place,  was  his  country.  And  when  he  was  taken  cap- 
tive he  did  not  long  for  Athens  and  his  friends  and 
acquaintance  there ;  but  made  himself  acquainted 
with  the  pirates,  and  endeavored  to  reform  them; 
and  when  he  was  at  last  sold  into  captivity,  he  lived 
at  Corinth  just  as  before  at  Athens ;  and,  if  he  had 
gone  to  the  Perrhcebeans,*  he  would  have  been  ex- 
actly the  same.  Thus  is  freedom  acquired.  Hence 
he  used  to  say,  "  Ever  since  Antisthenes  made  me 
freef  I  have  ceased  to  be  a  slave."  How  did  he 
make  him  free  ?  Hear  what  he  says.  "  He  taught 
me  what  was  my  own  and  what  not.  An  estate  is 
not  my  own.  Kindred,  domestics,  friends,  reputa- 
tion, familiar  places,  manner  of  life,  all  belong  to 
another."  —  "What  is  your  own  then?"  —  "The 
right  use  of  the  phenomena  of  existence.  He  showed 
me  that  I  have  this,  not  subject  to  restraint  or  com- 
pulsion ;  no  one  can  hinder  or  force  me  in  this,  any 
otherwise  than  as  I  please.  Who,  then,  after  this, 
has  any  power  over  me  ?  Philip,  or  Alexander,  or 
Perdiccas,  or  the  Persian  king  ?  Whence  should 
they  have  it  ?  For  he  that  is  to  be  subdued  by  man 
must  first  be  subdued  by  'things.  He,  therefore,  of 
whom  neither  pleasure,  nor  pain,  nor  fame,  nor  riches, 
can  get  the  better  ;  and  he  who  is  able,  whenever  he 
thinks  fit,  to  abandon  his  whole  body  with  contempt 
and  depart,  whose  slave  can  he  ever  be  ?  To  whom 
is  he  subject  ?  "     But  if  Diogenes  had  taken  pleasure 

*  A  people  towards  the  extremity  of  Greece.  —  C. 
t  Diogenes  was  the  disciple  of  Antisthenes.  —  C. 


276  THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

in  living  at  Athens,  and  had  been  snbdued  by  that 
manner  of  life,  his  affairs  would  have  been  at  every 
one's  disposal ;  and  whoever  was  stronger  would  have 
had  the  power  of  grieving  him.  How  would  he  have 
flattered  the  pirates,  think  you,  to  make  them  sell 
him  to  some  Athenian,  that  he  might  see  again  the 
fine  Piraeus,  the  Long  Walls,  and  the  Citadel  ?  How 
would  you  see  them?  As  a  slave  and  a  miserable 
wretch  ?  And  what  good  would  that  do  you  ?  "  No ; 
but  as  free."  How  free  ?  See,  somebody  lays  hold 
on  you,  takes  you  away  from  your  usual  manner  of 
life,  and  says :  "  You  are  my  slave ;  for  it  is  in  my 
power  to  restrain  you  from  living  as  you  like.  It  is 
in  my  power  to  afflict  and  humble  you.  Whenever  I 
please  you  may  be  cheerful  once  more ;  and  set  out 
elated  for  Athens."  What  do  you  say  to  him  who 
thus  enslaves  you  ?  What  rescuer  can  you  find  ?  Or 
dare  you  not  so  much  as  look  up  at  him  ;  but,  with- 
out making  many  words,  do  you  supplicate  to  be  dis- 
missed ?  Why,  you  ought  even  to  go  to  prison,  man, 
with  alacrity,  with  speed,  outstripping  your  conduc- 
tors. Instead  of  this  do  you  regret  living  at  Rome 
and  long  for  Greece  ?  And,  when  you  must  die,  will 
you  then,  too,  come  crying  to  us,  that  you  shall  no 
more  see  Athens,  nor  walk  in  the  Lyceum  ?  Is  it  for 
this  that  you  have  travelled  ?  Is  it  for  this  that  you 
have  been  seeking  for  somebody  to  do  you  good  ? 
What  good?  That  you  may  the  more  easily  solve 
syllogisms  and  manage  hypothetical  arguments? 
And  is  it  for  this  reason  you  left  your  brother,  your 
country,  your  friends,  your  family,  that  you  might 
carry  back  such  acquirements  as  these  ?  So  that  you 
did  not  travel  to  learn  constancy  nor  tranquillity; 
nor  that,  secured  from  harm,  you  might  complain  of 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  277 

no  one,  accuse  no  one ;  that  no  one  might  injure 
you ;  and  that  thus  you  might  preserve  your  human 
relations,  without  impediment.  You  have  made  a 
fine  traffic  of  it,  to  carry  home  hypothetical  argu- 
ments and  convertible  propositions !  If  you  please, 
too,  sit  in  the  market,  and  cry  them  for  sale,  as 
mountebanks  do  their  medicines.  Why  will  you  not 
rather  deny  that  you  know  even  what  you  have 
learned ;  for  fear  of  bringing  a  scandal  upon  such 
theorems  as  useless?  What  harm  has  philosophy 
done  you,  —  in  what  has  Chrysippus  injured  you,  — 
that  you  should  demonstrate  by  your  actions  that 
such  studies  are  of  no  value  ?  Had  you  not  evils 
enough  at  home  ?  How  many  causes  for  grief  and 
lamentation  had  you  there,  even  if  you  had  not  trav- 
elled ?  But  you  have  added  more  ;  and,  if  you  ever 
get  any  new  acquaintance  and  friends,  you  will  find 
fresh  causes  for  groaning ;  and,  in  like  manner,  if 
you  attach  yourself  to  any  other  country.  To  what 
purpose,  therefore,  do  you  live  ?  To  heap  sorrow 
upon  sorrow,  to  make  you  wretched  ?  And  then  you 
tell  me  this  is  affection.  What  affection,  man  ?  If 
it  be  good,  it  cannot  be  the  cause  of  any  ill ;  if  ill,  I 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  was  born  for  my 
own  good,  not  ill. 

"  What,  then,  is  the  proper  training  for  these 
cases  ?  " 

First,  the  highest  and  principal  means,  and  as  obvi- 
ous as  if  at  your  very  door,  is  this,  —  that  when  you 
attach  yourself  to  anything,  it  may  not  be  as  to  a 
secure  possession. 

"  How  then  ?  " 

As  to  something  brittle  as  glass  or  earthenware; 
that,  when  it  happens  to  be  broken,  you  may  not  lose 


278  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

your  self-command.  So  here,  too;  when  you  em- 
brace your  child,  or  your  brother,  or  your  friend, 
never  yield  yourself  wholly  to  the  fair  semblance,  nor 
let  the  passion  pass  into  excess ;  but  curb  it,  restrain 
it,  —  like  those  who  stand  behind  triumphant  victors, 
and  remind  them  that  they  are  men.  Do  you  like- 
wise remind  yourself  that  you  love  what  is  mortal ; 
that  you  love  what  is  not  your  own.  It  is  allowed 
you  for  the  present,  not  irrevocably,  nor  forever ; 
but  as  a  fig,  or  a  bunch  of  grapes,  in  the  appointed 
season.  If  you  long  for  these  in  winter  you  are  fool- 
ish. So,  if  you  long  for  your  son,  or  your  friend, 
when  you  cannot  have  him,  remember  that  you  are 
wishing  for  figs  in  winter.  For  as  winter  is  to  a  fig, 
so  is  every  accident  in  the  universe  to  those  things 
with  which  it  interferes.  In  the  next  place,  what- 
ever objects  give  you  pleasure,  call  before  yourself  the 
opposite  images.  What  harm  is  there,  while  you 
kiss  your  child,  in  saying  softly,  "To-morrow  you 
may  die  "  ;  and  so  to  your  friend,  "  To-morrow  either 
you  or  I  may  go  away,  and  we  may  see  each  other 
no  more." 

"  But  these  sayings  are  ominous." 

And  so  are  some  incantations ;  but,  because  they 
are  useful,  I  do  not  mind  it ;  only  let  them  be  useful. 
But  do  you  call  anything  ominous  except  what  im- 
plies some  ill?  Cowardice  is. ominous;  baseness  is 
ominous;  lamentation,  grief,  shamelessness.  These 
are  words  of  bad  omen ;  and  yet  we  ought  not  to 
shrink  from  using  them,  as  a  guard  against  the  things 
they  mean.  But  do  you  tell  me  that  a  word  is  omi- 
nous which  is  significant  of  anything  natural  ?  Say, 
too,  that  it  is  ominous  for  ears  of  corn  to  be  reaped ; 
for  this  signifies  the  destruction  of  the  corn ;  but  not 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  279 

of  the  world.  Say,  too,  that  the  fall  of  the  leaf  is 
ominous ;  and  that  confectionery  should  be  produced 
from  figs,  and  raisins  from  grapes.  For  all  these  are 
changes  from  a  former  state  into  another ;  not  a  de- 
struction, but  a  certain  appointed  economy  and  admin- 
istration. Such  is  absence,  a  slight  change ;  such  is 
death,  a  greater  change  ;  not  from  what  now  is  noth- 
ing, but  to  what  now  is  not. 

"  What,  then,  shall  I  be  no  more  ?  " 

True ;  but  you  will  be  something  else,  of  which  at 
present  the  world  has  no  need ;  for  even  you  were 
not  produced  when  you  pleased,  but  when  the  world 
had  need  of  you.  Hence  a  wise  and  good  man,  mind- 
ful who  he  is  and  whence  he  came,  and  by  whom  he 
was  produced,  is  attentive  only  how  he  may  fill  his 
post  regularly  and  dutifully  before  God.  "  Dost 
Thou  wish  me  still  to  live?  Let  me  live  free  and 
noble,  as  Thou  desirest ;  for  Thou  hast  made  me 
incapable  of  restraint  in  what  is  my  own.  But  hast 
Thou  no  farther  use  for  me  ?  Farewell !  I  have 
staid  thus  long  through  Thee  alone,  and  no  other; 
and  now  I  depart  in  obedience  to  Thee."  —  "How 
do  you  depart  ?  "  —  "  Still  as  Thou  wilt ;  as  one  free, 
as  thy  servant,  as  one  sensible  of  thy  commands  and 
thy  prohibitions.  But,  while  I  am  employed  in  thy 
service,  what  wouldst  Thou  have  me  to  be  ?  A  prince, 
or  a  private  man  ;  a  senator,  or  a  plebeian  ;  a  soldier, 
or  a  general ;  a  preceptor,  or  a  master  of  a  family  ? 
Whatever  post  or  rank  Thou  shalt  assign  me,  —  like 
Socrates,  I  will  die  a  thousand  times  rather  than 
desert  it.  Where  wouldst  thou  have  me  to  be  ?  At 
Rome,  or  at  Athens  ;  at  Thebes,  or  at  Gyaros  ?  Only 
remember  me  there.  If  Thou  shalt  send  me  where 
men  cannot  live  conformably  to  nature,  I  will  not 


280  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

depart  unbidden,  but  upon  a  recall  as  it  were  sounded 
by  Thee.  Even  then  I  do  not  desert  Thee  ;  Heaven 
forbid !  but  I  perceive  that  Thou  hast  no  use  for  me. 
If  a  life  conformable  to  nature  be  granted,  I  will  seek 
no  other  place  but  that  in  which  I  am  ;  nor  any  other 
company  but  those  with  whom  I  dwell." 

Let  these  things  be  ready  at  hand,  night  and 
day.  These  things  write ;  these  things  read ;  of 
these  things  talk  both  to  yourself  and  others.  [Ask 
them,]  "  Have  you  any  assistance  to  give  me  for  this 
purpose  ? "  And,  again,  go  and  ask  another  and 
another.  Then,  if  any  of  those  things  should  hap- 
pen that  are  called  disagreeable,  this  will  surely  be 
a  relief  to  you ;  in  the  first  place,  that  it  was  not 
unexpected.  For  it  is  much  to  be  able  always  to 
say,  "  I  knew  that  I  begot  one  born  to  die."  *  Thus 
do  you  say  too,  "  I  knew  that  I  was  liable  to  die,  to 
travel,  to  be  exiled,  to  be  imprisoned."  If  after- 
wards you  turn  to  yourself,  and  seek  from  what  quar- 
ter the  event  proceeds,  you  will  presently  recollect : 
"It  is  from  things  uncontrollable  by  will,  not  from 
what  is  my  own.  What  then  is  it  to  me  ?  "  Then, 
farther,  which  is  the  chief  point :  "  Who  sent  this  ? 
The  commander,  the  general,  the  city,  the  public 
law  ?  Give  it  to  me,  then,  for  I  must  always  obey 
the  law  in  all  things." 

Farther  yet ;  when  any  delusive  appearance  molests 
you  (for  this  may  not  depend  on  you,)  strive  against 
it,  and  conquer  it  through  reason.  Do  not  suffer  it 
to  gain  strength,  nor  to  lead  you  indefinitely  on, 
beguiling  you  at  its  own  will.  If  you  are  at  Gyaros, 
do  not  represent  to  yourself  the  manner  of  living  at 

*  This  was  said  by  Xenophon,  when  news  was  brought  him  that 
his  son  Gryiius  was  killed  in  a  battle.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  281 

Rome ;  how  many  pleasures  you  used  to  find  there, 
and  how  many  would  attend  your  return ;  but  dwell 
rather  on  this  point ;  how  he,  who  must  live  at  Gya- 
ros,  may  live  there  nobly.  And  if  you  are  at  Rome, 
do  not  represent  to  yourself  the  manner  of  living  at 
Athens ;  but  consider  only  how  you  ought  to  live 
where  you  are. 

Lastly,  for  all  other  pleasures  substitute  the  con- 
ciousness  that  you  are  obeying  God,  and  performing 
not  in  word,  but  in  deed,  the  duty  of  a  wise  and  good 
man.  How  great  a  thing  is  it  to  be  able  to  say  to 
yourself:  "  What  others  are  now  solemnly  arguing 
in  the  schools,  and  can  state  in  paradoxes,  this  I  put 
in  practice.  Those  qualities  which  are  there  dis- 
coursed, disputed,  celebrated,  I  have  made  mine  own. 
Zeus  hath  been  pleased  to  let  me  recognize  this  with- 
in myself,  and  himself  to  discern  whether  he  hath  in 
me  one  fit  for  a  soldier  and  a  citizen,  and  to  employ 
me  as  a  witness  to  other  men,  concerning  things  un- 
controllable by  will.  See  that  your  fears  were  vain, 
your  appetites  vain.  Seek  not  good  from  without: 
seek  it  within  yourselves,  or  you  will  never  find  it. 
For  this  reason  he  now  brings  me  hither,  now  sends 
me  thither  ;  sets  me  before  mankind,  poor,  powerless, 
sick ;  banishes  me  to  Gyaros  ;  leads  me  to  prison ; 
not  that  he  hates  me,  — ■  Heaven  forbid  !  For  who 
hates  the  most  faithful  of  his  servants  ?  Nor  that  he 
neglects  me,  for  he  neglects  not  one  of  the  smallest 
things;  but  to  exerc^e  me,  and  make  use  of  me  as  a 
witness  to  others.  Appointed  to  such  a  service,  do  I 
still  care  whore  I  am,  or  with  whom,  or  what  is  said 
of  me,  —  instead  of  being  wholly  attentive  to  God 
and  to  his  orders  and  commands  ?  " 

Having  these  principles  always  at  hand,  and  prao- 


282  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

tising  them  by  yourself,  and  making  them  ready  for 
use,  you  will  never  want  any  one  to  comfort  and 
strengthen  you.  For  shame  does  not  consist  in  hav- 
ing nothing  to  eat,  but  in  not  having  wisdom  enough 
to  exempt  you  from  fear  and  sorrow.  But  if  you 
once  acquire  that  exemption,  will  a  tyrant,  or  his 
guards,  or  courtiers,  be  anything  to  you  ?  Will  offi- 
ces or  office-seekers  disturb  you,  who  have  received 
so  great  a  command  from  Zeus  ?  Only  do  not  make 
a  parade  over  it,  nor  grow  insolent  upon  it.  But 
show  it  by  your  actions;  and  though  no  one  else 
should  notice  it,  be  content  that  you  are  well  and 
blessed. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

CONCERNING   THOSE    WHO    WAVER   IN   THEIR   PURPOSE. 

CONSIDER  which  of  your  undertakings  you  have 
fulfilled,  which  not,  and  wherefore ;  which  give 
you  pleasure,  which  pain,  in  the  reflection ;  and,  if 
possible,  recover  yourself  where  you  have  failed.  For 
the  champions  in  this  greatest  of  combats  must  not 
grow  weary ;  but  should  even  contentedly  bear  chas- 
tisement. For  this  is  no  combat  of  wrestling  or  box- 
ing, where  both  he  who  succeeds  and  he  who  fails 
may  possibly  be  of  very  great  worth  or  of  little ;  in- 
deed may  be  very  fortunate  or  very  miserable ;  but 
this  combat  is  for  good  fortune  and  happiness  itself. 
What  is  the  case,  then  ?  Here  even  if  we  have  re- 
nounced the  contest,  no  one  restrains  us  from  renew- 
ing it ;  nor  need  we  wait  for  another  four  years  for 
the  return  of  another  Olympiad ;  but  recollecting 
and  recovering  yourself,  and  returning  with  the  same 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  283 

zeal,  you  may  renew  it  immediately ;  and  even  if  you 
should  again  yield,  you  may  again  begin  ;  and  if  you 
once  get  the  victory,  you  become  like  one  who  has 
never  yielded.  Only  do  not  begin,  by  forming  the  habit 
of  this,  to  do  it  with  pleasure,  and  then,  like  quails 
that  have  fled  the  fighting-pit,  go  about  as  if  you 
were  a  brave  champion,  although  you  have  been  con- 
quered throughout  all  the  games.  "  I  am  conquered 
in  presence  of  a  girl.  But  what  of  it  ?  I  have  been 
thus  conquered  before."  —  "I  am  excited  to  wrath 
against  some  one.  But  I  have  been  in  anger  before." 
You  talk  to  us  just  as  if  you  had  come  off  unhurt. 
As  if  one  should  say  to  his  physician,  who  had  for- 
bidden him  to  bathe,  "  Why,  did  not  I  bathe  before?  " 
Suppose  the  physician  should  answer  him,  "  Well, 
and  what  was  the  consequence  of  your  bathing? 
Were  you  not  feverish?  Had  you  not  the  head- 
ache ?  "  So,  when  you  before  railed  at  somebody, 
did  you  not  act  like  an  ill-natured  person ;  like  an 
impertinent  one  ?  Have  not  you  fed  this  habit  of 
yours  by  corresponding  actions  ?  When  you  were 
conquered  by  a  pretty  girl,  did  you  come  off  with 
impunity  ?  Why,  then,  do  you  talk  of  what  you 
have  done  before  ?  You  ought  to  remember  it,  I 
think,  as  slaves  do  whipping,  .so  as  to  refrain  from 
the  same  faults.  "  But  the  case  is  unlike  ;  for  there 
it  is  pain  that  causes  the  remembrance :  but  what  is 
the  pain,  what  the  punishment,  of  my  committing 
these  faults  ?  For  when  was  I  ever  thus  trained  to 
the  avoidance  of  bad  actions  ?  "  Yet  the  pains  of 
experience,  whether  we  will  or  not,  have  their  bene- 
ficial influence. 


284  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CONCERNING   THOSE    WHO    ARE    IN   DREAD    OP   WANT. 

ARE  not  you  ashamed  to  be  more  fearful  and 
mean-spirited  than  fugitive  slaves?  To  what 
estates,  to  what  servants,  do  they  trust,  when  they 
run  away  and  leave  their  masters  ?  Do  they  not, 
after  carrying  off  a  little  with  them  for  the  first  days, 
travel  over  land  and  sea,  contriving  first  one,  then 
another  method  of  getting  food  ?  And  what  fugitive 
ever  died  of  hunger?  But  you  tremble,  and  lie 
awake  at  night,  for  fear  you  should  want  necessaries. 
Foolish  man !  are  you  so  blind  ?  Do  not  you  see  the 
way  whither  the  want  of  necessaries  leads  ? 

"  Why,  whither  does  it  lead  ?  " 

Whither  a  fever,  or  a  falling  stone  may  lead,  —  to 
death.  Have  you  not,  then,  often  said  this  to  your 
companions  ?  Have  you  not  read,  have  you  not 
written,  many  things  on  this  point  ?  And  how  often 
have  you  arrogantly  boasted  that  you  are  undisturbed 
by  fears  of  death. 

"  Ay ;  but  my  family,  too,  will  perish  with  hun- 
ger." 

What  then?  Does  their  hunger  lead  any  other 
way  than  yours  ?  Is  there  not  the  same  descent  ? 
The  same  state  below  ?  Will  you  not  then,  in  every 
want  and  necessity,  look  with  confidence  there,  where 
even  the  most  rich  and  powerful,  and  kings  and  ty- 
rants themselves,  must  descend?  You  indeed  may 
descend  hungry,  perhaps ;  and  they,  full  of  indiges- 
tion and  drunkenness.  For  have  you  often  seen  a 
beggar  who  did  not  live  to  old  age,  nay,  to  extreme 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  285 

old  age  ?  Chilled  by  day  and  night,  lying*  on  the 
ground,  and  eating  only  what  is  barely  necessary, 
they  yet  seem  almost  to  become  incapable  of  dying. 
But  cannot  you  write  ?  Cannot  you  keep  a  school  ? 
Cannot  you  be  a  watchman  at  somebody's  door  ? 
"  But  it  is  shameful  to  come  to  this  necessity." 
First,  therefore,  learn  what  things  are  shameful, 
and  then  claim  to  be  a  philosopher ;  but  at  present 
do  not  suffer  even  another  to  call  you  so.  Is  that 
shameful  to  you  which  is  not  your  own  act?  Of 
which  you  are  not  the  cause  ?  Which  has  happened 
to  you  by  accident,  like  a  fever  or  the  head-ache  ? 
If  your  parents  were  poor,  or  left  others  their  heirs, 
or  though  living,  do  not  assist  you,  are  these  things 
shameful  for  you  ?  Is  this  what  you  have  learned 
from  the  philosophers  ?  Have  you  never  heard  that 
what  is  shameful  is  blamable ;  and  what  is  blama- 
ble  must  be  something  which  deserves  to  be  blamed  ? 
Whom  do  you  blame  for  an  action  not  his  own,  which 
he  has  not  himself  performed  ?  Did  you,  then,  make 
your  father  such  as  he  is  ?  Or  is  it  in  your  power  to 
mend  him  ?  Is  that  permitted  you  ?  What,  then, 
must  you  desire  what  is  not  permitted ;  and  when 
you  fail  of  it  be  ashamed?  Are  you  thus  accus- 
tomed, even  when  you  are  studying  philosophy,  to 
depend  on  others,  and  to  hope  nothing  from  your- 
self? Sigh,  then,  and  groan  and  eat  in  fear  that  you 
shall  have  no  food  to-morrow.  Tremble,  lest  your 
servants  should  rob  you,  or  run  away  from  you,  or 
die.  Thus  live  on  forever,  whoever  you  are,  who  have 
applied  yourself  to  philosophy  in  name  only,  and  as 
much  as  in  you  lies  have  disgraced  its  principles,  by 
showing  that  they  are  unprofitable  and  useless  to 
those  who  profess  them.   "  You  have  never  made  con- 


286  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

stancy,  tranquillity,  and  serenity  the  object  of  your 
desires ;  have  sought  no  teacher  for  this  knowledge, 
but  many  for  mere  syllogisms.  You  have  never,  by 
yourself,  confronted  some  delusive  semblance  with  — 
"  Can  I  bear  this,  or  can  I  not  bear  it  ?  What  re- 
mains for  me  to  do  ?  "  But,  as  if  all  your  affairs 
went  safe  and  well,  you  have  aimed  only  to  secure 
yourself  in  your  present  possessions.  What  are  they  ? 
Cowardice,  baseness,  worldliness,  desires  unaccom- 
plished, unavailing  aversions.  These  are  the  things 
which  you  have  been  laboring  to  secure.  Ought  you 
not  first  to  have  acquired  something  by  the  use  of 
reason,  and  then  to  have  provided  security  for  that  ? 
Whom  did  you  ever  see  building  a  series  of  battle- 
ments without  placing  them  upon  a  wall  ?  And  what 
porter  is  ever  set,  where  there  is  no  door  ?  But  you 
study  !     Can  you  show  me  what  you  study  ? 

"  Not  to  be  shaken  by  sophistry." 

Shaken  from  what?  Show  me  first,  what  you 
have  in  your  custody ;  what  you  measure,  or  what 
you  weigh;  and  then  accordingly  show  me  your 
weights  and  measures ;  and  to  what  purpose  you 
measure  that  which  is  but  dust.  'Ought  you  not  to 
show  what  makes  men  truly  happy,  what  makes  their 
affairs  proceed  as  they  wish?  How  we  may  blame 
no  one,  accuse  no  one ;  how  acquiesce  in  the  admin- 
istration of  the  universe?  Show  me  these  things. 
"  See,  1  do  show  them,"  say  you ;  "  I  will  solve  syl- 
logisms to  you."  This  is  but  the  measure,  0  unfor- 
tunate !  and  not  the  thing  measured.  Hence  you 
now  pay  the  penalty  due  for  neglecting  philosophy. 
You  tremble,  you  lie  awake ;  you  advise  with  every- 
body, and  if  the  result  of  the  advice  does  not  please 
everybody,  you  think  that  you  have  been  ill-advised. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  287 

t 

Then  you  dread  hunger,  as  you  fancy ;  yet  it  is  not 
hunger  that  you  dread ;  but  you  are  afraid  that  you 
will  not  have  some  one  to  cook  for  you ;  some  one 
else  for  a  butler ;  another  to  pull  off  your  shoes ;  a 
fourth  to  dress  you  ;  others  to  rub  you  ;  others  to  fol- 
low you :  that  when  you  have  undressed  yourself  in 
the  bathing-room,  and  stretched  yourself  out,  like  a 
man  crucified,  you  may  be  rubbed  here  and  there ; 
and  the  attendant  may  stand  by,  and  say,  "  Come, 
this  way ;  give  your  side ;  take  hold  of  his  head ; 
turn  your  shoulder "  ;  and  that  when  you  are  re- 
turned home  from  the  bath  you  may  cry  out,  "  Does 
nobody  bring  anything  to  eat  ?  "  And  then,  "  Take 
away  ;  wipe  the  table."  This  is  your  dread,  that  you 
will  not  be  able  to  lead  the  life  of  a  sick  man.  But 
learn  the  life  of  those  in  health ;  how  slaves  live,  how 
laborers,  how  those  who  are  genuine  philosophers ; 
how  Socrates  lived,  even  with  a  wife  and  children ; 
how  Diogenes ;  how  Cleanthes,  at  once  studying  and 
drawing  water  [for  his  livelihood] .  If  these  are  the 
things  you  would  have,  you  can  possess  them  every- 
where, and  with  a  fearless  confidence. 

"  In  what  ?  " 

In  the  only  thing  that  can  be  confided  in  ;  in  what 
is  sure,  incapable  of  being  restrained  or  taken  away ; 
your  own  will. 

But  why  have  »you  contrived  to  make  yourself  so 
useless  and  good  for  nothing,  that  nobody  will  receive 
you  into  his  house  ;  nobody  take  care  of  you :  but 
although,  if  any  sound  useful  vessel  be  thrown  out  of 
doors,  whoever  finds  it  will  take  it  up  and  prize  it  as 
something  gained  ;  yet  nobody  will  take  you  up,  but 
everybody  esteem  you  a  loss.  What,  cannot  you  so 
much  as  perform  the  office  of  a  dog  or  a  cock  ?    Why, 


288  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

then,  do  you  wish  to  live  any  longer  if  you  are  so 
worthless  ?  Does  any  good  man  fear  that  food  should 
fail  him  ?  It  does  not  fail  the  blind  ;  it  does  not  fail 
the  lame.  Shall  it  fail  a  good  man  ?  A  paymaster 
is  always  to  be  found  for  a  soldier,  or  a  laborer,  or  a 
shoemaker,  and  shall  one  be  wanting  to  a  good  man  ? 
Is  God  so  negligent  of  his  own  institutions,  of  his  ser- 
vants, of  his  witnesses,  whom  alone  he  uses  for  exam- 
ples to  the  uninstructed,  to  show  that  He  exists,  and 
that  he  administers  the  universe  rightly,  and  doth  not 
neglect  human  affairs ;  and  that  no  evil  can  happen 
to  a  good  man,  either  living  or  dead  ?  What,  then, 
is  the  case,  when  he  doth  not  bestow  food  ?  What 
else  than  that,  like  a  good  general,  he  hath  made  me 
a  signal  of  retreat  ?  I  obey,  I  follow ;  speaking  well 
of  my  leader,  praising  his  works.  For  I  came  when 
it  seemed  good  to  him,  and,  again,  when  it  seems 
good  to  him,  I  depart ;  and  in  life  it  was  my  business 
to  praise  God  within  myself  and  to  every  auditor,  and 
to  the  world.  Doth  he  grant  me  but  few  things? 
Doth  he  refuse  me  affluence  ?  It  is  not  his  pleasure 
that  I  should  live  luxuriously ;  for  he  did  not  grant 
that  even  to  Hercules,  his  own  son;  but  another 
reigned  over  Argos  and  Mycene,  while  he  obeyed, 
labored,  and  strove.  And  Eurystheus  was  just  what 
he  was ;  neither  truly  king  of  Argos,  nor  of  Mycene  ; 
not  being  indeed  king  over  himself.  But  Hercules 
was  ruler  and  governor  of  the  whole  earth  and  seas  ; 
the  expeller  of  lawlessness  and  injustice ;  the  intro- 
ducer of  justice  and  sanctity.  And  this  he  effected 
naked  and  alone.  Again ;  when  Ulysses  was  ship- 
wrecked and  cast  away,  did  his  helpless  condition  at 
all  deject  him  ?  Did  it  break  his  spirit  ?  No :  but 
how  did  he  go  to  Nausicaa  and  her  attendants,  to  ask 


THE  DISCOUBSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  289 

« 

those  necessaries  which  it  seems  most  shameful  to 
"beg  from  another  ? 

"  As  some  lion,  bred  in  the  mountains,  confiding  in  strength."  * 

Confiding  in  what  ?  Not  in  glory,  or  in  riches,  or  in 
dominion,  but  in  his  own  strength ;  that  is,  in  his 
knowledge  of  what  is  within  him  and  without  him. 
For  this  alone  is  what  can  render  us  free  and  incapa- 
ble of  restraint ;  can  raise  the  heads  of  the  humble, 
and  make  them  look,  with  unaverted  eyes,  full  in  the 
face  of  the  rich  and  of  the  tyrants  ;  and  this  is  what 

[philosophy  bestows.  But  you  will  not  even  set  forth 
with  confidence  ;  but  all  trembling  about  such  trifles 
as  clothes  and  plate.  Foolish  man!  have  you  thus 
wasted  your  time  till  now  ? 

"  But  what  if  I  should  be  sick  ?  " 

It  will  then  be  for  the  best  that  you  should  be  sick. 

"  Who  will  take  care  of  me  ?  " 

God  and  your  friends. 

"  I  shall  lie  in  a  hard  bed." 

But  like  a  man. 

"  I  shall  not  have  a  convenient  room.,, 

Then  you  will  be  sick  in  an  inconvenient  one. 

"  Who  will  provide  food  for  me?" 

They  who  provide  for  others,  too  ;  you  will  be  sick 
like  Manes. f 

"  But  what  will  be  the  conclusion  of  my  sickness  ? 
Any  other  than  death  ?  " 

Why,  do  you  not  know,  then,  that  the  origin  of  all 
human  evils,  and  of  baseness,  and  cowardice,  is  not 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  VI.  130.  — H. 

t  The  name  of  a  slave,  particularly  of  a  slave  who  once  belonged 
to  Diogenes ;   and  perhaps  this  expression   alludes   to   some  story 
about  him,  which  is  now  unknown.  —  C. 
19 


290  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

death ;  but  rather  the  fear  of  death  ?  Fortify  your- 
self, therefore,  against  this.  Hither  let  all  your  dis- 
courses, readings,  exercises,  tend.  And  then  you  will 
know  that  thus  alone  are  men  made  free. 


BOOK  IV. 

CHAPTER    I. 

OP   FREEDOM, 

HE  is  free  who  lives  as  he  likes ;  who  is  not  sub- 
ject to  compulsion,  to  restraint,  or  to  violence ; 
whose  pursuits  are  unhindered,  his  desires  successful, 
his  aversions  unincurred.  Who,  then,  would  wish 
to  lead  a  wrong  course  of  life ?  "No  one."  Who 
would  live  deceived,  erring,  unjust,  dissolute,  discon- 
tented, dejected  ?  "  No  one."  No  wicked  man,  then, 
lives  as  he  likes ;  therefore  no  such  man  is  free.  And 
who  would  live  in  sorrow,  fear,  envy,  pity,  with  dis- 
appointed desires  and  unavailing  aversions ?  "No 
one."  Do  we  then  find  any  of  the  wicked  exempt 
from  these  evils  ?  "  Not  one."  Consequently,  then, 
they  are  not  free. 

If  some  person  who  has  been  twice  consul  should 
hear  this,  he  will  forgive  you,  provided  you  add,  "  but 
you  are  wise,  and  this  has  no  reference  to  you."  But 
if  you  tell  him  the  truth,  that,  in  point  of  slavery,  he 
does  not  necessarily  differ  from  those  who  have  been 
thrice  sold,  what  but  chastisement  can  you  expect  ? 
"  For  how,"  he  says,  "amla  slave  ?  My  father  was 
free,  my  mother  free.  Besides,  I  am  a  senator,  too, 
and  the  friend  of  Caesar,  and  have  been  twice  consul, 
and  have  myself  many  slaves."  In  the  first  place, 
most  worthy  sir,  perhaps  your  father  too  was  a  slave 
of  the  same  kind  ;  and  your  mother,  and  your  grand- 
father, and  all  your  series  of  ancestors.    But  even 


292  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

were  they  ever  so  free,  what  is  that  to  you  ?  For 
what  if  they  were  of  a  generous,  you  of  a  mean  spirit ; 
they  brave,  and  you  a  coward ;  they  sober,  and  you 
dissolute  ? 

"  But  what,"  he  says, "  has  this  to  do  with  my  being 
a  slave."  Is  it  no  part  of  slavery  to  act  against  your 
will,  under  compulsion,  and  lamenting  ?  "  Be  it  so. 
But  who  can  compel  me  but  the  master  of  all,  Cae- 
sar ?  "  By  your  own  confession,  then,  you  have  one 
master  ;  and  let  not  his  being,  as  you  say,  master  of 
all,  give  you  any  comfort ;  for  then  you  are  merely 
a  slave  in  a  large  family.  Thus  the  Nicopolitans, 
too,  frequently  cry  out,  "  By  the  genius  of  Caesar  we 
are/ree/" 

For  the  present,  however,  if  you  please,  we  will  let 
Caesar  alone.  But  tell  me  this.  Have  you  never 
been  in  love  with  any  one,  either  of  a  servile  or  lib- 
eral condition  ?  "  Why,  what  has  that  to  do  with 
being  slave  or  free  ?  "  Were  you  never  commanded 
anything  by  your  mistress  that  you  did  not  choose  ? 
Have  you  never  flattered  your  fair  slave  ?  Have  you 
never  kissed  her  feet  ?  And  yet  if  you  were  com- 
manded to  kiss  Caesar's  feet,  you  would  think  it  an 
outrage  and  an  excess  of  tyranny.  What  else  is  this 
than  slavery  ?  Have  you  never  gone  out  by  night 
where  you  did  not  desire  ?  Have  you  never  spent 
more  than  you  chose?  Have  you  not  sometimes 
uttered  your  words  with  sighs  and  groans  ?  Have 
you  never  borne  to  be  reviled  and  shut  out  of  doors  ? 
But  if  you  are  ashamed  to  confess  your  own  follies, 
see  what  Thrasonides  *  says,  and  does ;  who,  after 
having  fought  more  battles  perhaps  than  you,  went 

*  A  character  in  one  of  the  Comedies  of  Menander,  oalled  The 
Hated  Lover.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  293 

out  by  night,  when  [his  slave]  Geta  would  not  dare  to 
go;  nay,  had  he  been  compelled  to  do  it  by  him, 
would  have  gone  bewailing  and  lamenting  the  bitter- 
ness of  servitude.  And  what  says  he  afterwards  ? 
"  A  contemptible  girl  has  enslaved  me,  whom  no 
enemy  ever  enslaved."  Wretch !  to  be  the  slave  of 
a  girl  and  a  contemptible  girl  too !  Why,  then,  do 
you  still  call  yourself  free  ?  Why  do  you  boast  your 
military  expeditions?  Then  he  calls  for  a  sword, 
and  is  angry  with  the  person  who,  out  of  kindness, 
denies  it ;  and  sends  presents  to  her  who  hates  him ; 
and  begs,  and  weeps,  and  then  again  is  elated  on 
every  little  success.  But  what  elation  ?  Is  he  raised 
above  desire  or  fear  ? 

Consider  in  animals  what  is  our  idea  of  freedom. 
Some  keep  tame  lions,  and  feed  them  and  even  lead 
them  about ;  and  who  will  say  that  any  such  lion  is 
free  ?  Nay,  does  he  not  live  the  more  slavishly  the 
more  he  lives  at  ease  ?  And  who  that  had  sense  and 
reason  would  wish  to  be  one  of  those  lions  ?  Again, 
how  much  will  caged  birds  suffer  in  trying  to  escape  ? 
Nay,  some  of  them  starve  themselves  rather  than  un- 
dergo such  a  life ;  others  are  saved  only  with  diffi- 
culty and  in  a  pining  condition ;  and  the  moment 
they  find  any  opening,  out  they  go.  Such  a  desire 
have  they  for  their  natural  freedom,  and  to  be  at  their 
own  disposal,  and  unrestrained.  "  And  what  harm 
can  this  confinement  do  you  ?  "  —  "  What  say  you  ? 
I  was  born  to  fly  where  I  please,  to  live  in  the  open 
air,  to  sing  when  I  please.  You  deprive  me  of  all 
this,  and  then  ask,  what  harm  I  suffer  ?  " 

Hence  we  will  allow  those  only  to  be  free  who  will 
not  endure  captivity ;  but  so  soon  as  they  are  taken, 
die  and  so  escape.     Thus  Diogenes  somewhere  says 


294  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

that  the  only  way  to  freedom  is  to  die  with  ease. 
And  he  writes  to  the  Persian  king, "  You  can  no 
more  enslave  the  Athenians  than  you  can  fish."  — 
" How ?  Can  I  not  get  possession  of  them ? "  —  "If 
you  do,"  said  "he,  "  they  will  leave  you,  and  be  gone 
like  fish.  For  catch  a  fish,  and  it  dies.  And  if  the 
Athenians,  too,  die  as  soon  as  you  have  caught  them, 
of  what  use  are  your  warlike  preparations  ?  "  This 
is  the  voice  of  a  free  man  who  had  examined  the 
matter  in  earnest;  and,  as  it  might  be  expected, 
found  it  all  out.  But  if  you  seek  it  where  it  is  not, 
what  wonder  if  you  never  find  it  ? 

A  slave  wishes  to  be  immediately  set  free.  Think 
you  it  is  because  he  is  desirous  to  pay  his  fee  [of 
manumission]  to  the  officer?  No,  but  because  he 
fancies  that,  for  want  of  acquiring  his  freedom,  he 
has  hitherto  lived  under  restraint  and  unprosper- 
ously.  "  If  I  am  once  set  free,"  he  says,  "  it  is  all 
prosperity ;  I  care  for  no  one ;  I  can  speak  to  all  as 
being  their  equal  and  on  a  level  with  them.  I  go 
where  I  will,  I  come  when  and  how  I  will."  He  is 
at  last  made  free,  and  presently  having  nowhere  to 
eat  he  seeks  whom  he  may  natter,  with  whom  he 
may  sup.  He  then  either  submits  to  the  basest  and 
most  infamous  degradation  ;  and  if  he  can  obtain  ad- 
mission to  some  great  man's  table,  falls  into  a  slavery 
much  worse  than  the  former;  or  perhaps,  if  the 
ignorant  fellow  should  grow  rich,  he  doats  upon  some 
girl,  laments,  and  is  unhappy,  and  wishes  for  slavery 
again.  "  For  what  harm  did  it  do  me  ?  Another 
clothed  me,  another  shod  me,  another  fed  me,  an- 
other took  care  of  me  when  I  was  sick.  It  was  but 
in  a  few  things,  by  way  of  return,  I  used  to  serve  him. 
But  now,  miserable  wretch !  what  do  I  suffer,  in  be- 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  295 

ing  a  slave  to  many,  instead  of  one !  Yet,  if  I  can 
be  promoted  to  equestrian  rank,  I  shall  live  in  the 
utmost  prosperity  and  happiness. "  In  order  to  ob- 
tain this,  he  first  deservedly  suffers  ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  has  obtained  it,  it  is  all  the  same  again.  "  But, 
then,"  he  says,  "  if  I  do  but  get  a  military  command, 
I  shall  be  delivered  from  all  my  troubles."  He  gets 
a  military  command.  He  suffers  as  much  as  the 
vilest  rogue  of  a  slave  ;  and,  nevertheless,  he  asks  for 
a  second  command,  and  a  third ;  and  when  he  has 
put  the  finishing  touch,  and  is  made  a  senator,  then 
he  is  a  slave  indeed.  When  he  comes  into  the  pub- 
lic assembly,  it  is  then  that  he  undergoes  his  finest 
and  most  splendid  slavery. 

[It  is  needful]  not  to  be  foolish,  but  to  learn  what 
Socrates  taught,  the  nature  of  things  ;  and  not  rashly 
to  apply  general  principles  to  particulars.  For  the 
cause  of  all  human  evils  is  the  not  being  able  to  apply 
general  principles  to  special  cases.  But  different  peo- 
ple have  different  grounds  of  complaint ;  one,  for  in- 
stance, that  he  is  sick.  That  is  not  the  trouble,  it  is  in 
his  principles.  Another,  that  he  is  poor  ;  another,  that 
he  has  a  harsh  father  and  mother ;  another,  that  he  is 
not  in  the  good  graces  of  Caesar.  This  is  nothing  else 
but  not  understanding  how  to  apply  our  principles. 
For  who  has  not  an  idea  of  evil,  that  it  is  hurtful  ? 
That  it  is  to  be  avoided  ?  That  it  is  by  all  means  to 
be  prudently  guarded  against?  One  principle  does 
not  contradict  another,  except  when  it  comes  to  be  ap- 
plied. What,  then,  is  this  evil,  —  thus  hurtful  and  to 
be  avoided  ?  "  Not  to  be  the  friend  of  Caesar,"  says 
some  one.  He  is  gone  ;  he  has  failed  in  applying  his 
principles  ;  he  is  embarrassed  ;  he  seeks  what  is  noth- 
ing to  the  purpose.     For  if  he  comes  to  be  Caesar's 


296  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

friend,  he  is  still  no  nearer  to  what  he  sought.  For 
what  is  it  that  every  man  seeks  ?  To  be  secure,  to 
be  happy,  to  do  what  he  pleases  without  restraint  and 
without  compulsion.  When  he  becomes  the  friend 
of  Caesar,  then  does  he  cease  to  be  restrained  ?  To 
be  compelled  ?  Is  he  secure  ?  Is  he  happy  ?  Whom 
shall  we  ask  ?  Whom  can  we  better  credit  than  this 
very  man  who  has  been  his  friend  ?  Come  forth  and 
tell  us  whether  you  sleep  more  quietly  now  than  be- 
fore you  were  the  friend  of  Caesar  ?  You  presently 
hear  him  cry,  "  Leave  off,  for  Heaven's  sake,  and  do 
not  insult  me.  You  know  not  the  miseries  I  suffer ; 
there  is  no  sleep  for  me  ;  but  one  comes  and  says 
that  Caesar  is  already  awake  ;  another,  that  he  is  just 
going  out.  Then  follow  perturbations,  then  cares." 
Well ;  and  when  did  you  use  to  sup  the  more  pleas- 
antly,—  formerly,  or  now  ?  Hear  what  he  says  about 
this,  too.  When  he  is  not  invited,  he  is  distracted  ; 
and  if  he  is,  he  sups  like  a  slave  with  his  master, 
solicitous  all  the  while  not  to  say  or  do  anything 
foolish.  And  what  think  you  ?  Is  he  afraid  of  being 
whipped  like  a  slave  ?  No  such  easy  penalty.  No  ; 
but  rather,  as  becomes  so  great  a  man,  Caesar's  friend, 
of  losing  his  head.  And  when  did  you  bathe  the 
more  quietly ;  when  did  you  perform  your  exercises 
the  more  at  your  leisure ;  in  short,  which  life  would 
you  rather  wish  to  live,  your  present,  or  the  former  ? 
I  could  swear  there  is  no  one  so  stupid  and  insensible 
as  not  to  deplore  his  miseries,  in  proportion  as  he  is 
the  more  the  friend  of  Caesar. 

Since,  then,  neither  they  who  are  called  kings  nor 
the  friends  of  kings  live  as  they  like,  who,  then,  after 
all,  is  free  ?  Seek,  and  you  will  find ;  for  you  are 
furnished  by  nature  with  means  for  discovering  the 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  297 

truth.  But  if  you  are  not  able  by  these  alone  to  find 
the  consequence,  hear  them  who  have  sought  it. 
What  do  they  say  ?  Do  you  think  freedom  a  good  ? 
"  The  greatest."  Can  any  one,  then,  who  attains  the 
greatest  good,  be  unhappy  or  unsuccessful  in  his 
affairs?  "No."  As  many,  therefore,  as  you  see 
unhappy,  lamenting,  unprosperous, — confidently  pro- 
nounce them  not  free.  "  I  do."  Henceforth,  then, 
we  have  done  with  buying  and  selling,  and  such  like 
stated  conditions  of  becoming  slaves.  For  if  these 
concessions  hold,  then,  whether  the  unhappy  man  be 
a  great  or  a  little  king,  —  of  consular  or  bi-consular 
dignity,  —  he  is  not  free.     "Agreed." 

Further,  then,  answer  me  this  ;  do  you  think  free- 
dom to  be  something  great  and  noble  and  valuable  ? 
"  How  should  I  not  ? "  Is  it  possible,  then,  that  he 
who  acquires  anything  so  great  and  valuable  and 
noble  should  be  of  an  abject  spirit?  "It  is  not." 
Whenever,  then,  you  see  any  one  subject  to  another, 
and  flattering  him  contrary  to  his  own  opinion,  confi- 
dently say  that  he  too  is  not  free  ;  and  not  only  when 
he  does  this  for  a  supper,  but  even  if  it  be  for  a  gov- 
ernment, nay,  a  consulship.  Call  those  indeed  little 
slaves  who  act  thus  for  the  sake  of  little  things ;  and 
call  the  others  as  they  deserve,  great  slaves.  "  Be 
this,  too,  agreed."  Well;  do  you  think  freedom 
to  be  something  independent  and  self-determined  ? 
"  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  "  Him,  then,  whom  it 
is  in  the  power  of  another  to  restrain  or  to  compel, 
affirm  confidently  to  be  by  no  means  free.  And  do 
not  heed  his  grandfathers  or  great-grandfathers ;  or 
inquire  whether  he  has  been  bought  or  sold ;  but  if 
you  hear  him  say  from  his  heart  and  with  emotion, 
"  my  master,"  though  twelve  Lictors  should  march 


298  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

before  him,  call  hiin  a  slave.  And  if  you  should  hear 
him  say,  "  Wretch,  that  I  am !  what  do  I  suffer !  " 
call  him  a  slave.  In  short,  if  you  see  him  wailing, 
complaining,  unprosperous,  call  him  a  slave,  even  in 
purple. 

"  Suppose,  then,  that  he  does  nothing  of  all  this." 
Do  not  yet  say  that  he  is  free  ;  but  learn  whether  his 
principles  are  in  any  event  liable  to  compulsion,  to 
restraint,  or  disappointment ;  and  if  you  find  this  to 
be  the  case,  call  him  a  slave,  keeping  holiday  during 
the  Saturnalia.  Say  that  his  master  is  abroad ;  that 
he  will  come  presently ;  and  you  will  know  what 
he  suffers.  "  Who  will  come  ?  "  Whoever  has  the 
power  either  of  bestowing  or  of  taking  away  any  of 
the  things  he  desires. 

"  Have  we  so  many  masters,  then  ?  "  We  have. 
For,  prior  to  all  such,  we  have  the  things  themselves 
for  our  masters;  Now  they  are  many ;  and  it  is 
through  these  that  the  men  who  control  the  things 
inevitably  become  our  masters  too.  For  no  one  fears 
Caesar  himself ;  but  death,  banishment,  confiscation, 
prison,  disgrace.  Nor  does  any  one  love  Caesar  unless 
he  be  a  person  of  great  worth  ;  but  we  love  riches,  the 
tribunate,  the  praetorship,  the  consulship.  When  we 
love  or  hate  or  fear  such  things,  they  who  have  the 
disposal  of  them  must  necessarily  be  our  masters. 
Hence  we  even  worship  them  as  gods.  For  we  con- 
sider that  whoever  has  the  disposal  of  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages is  a  deity ;  and  then  further  reason  falsely, 
"  but  such  a  one  has  the  control  of  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages ;  therefore  he  is  a  deity."  For  if  we  reason 
falsely,  the  final  inference  must  be  also  false. 

What  is  it,  then,  that  makes  a  man  free  and  inde- 
pendent?    For  neither  riches,  nor  consulship,  nor 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  299 

the  command  of  provinces,  nor  of  kingdoms,  can 
make  him  so ;  but  something  else  must  be  found." 
What  is  it  that  keeps  any  one  from  being  hindered 
and  restrained  in  penmanship,  for  instance  ?  "  The 
science  of  penmanship.' '  In  music  ?  "  The  science 
of  music."  Therefore  in  life  too,  it  must  be  the  sci 
ence  of  living.  As  you  have  heard  it  in  general,  then, 
consider  it  likewise  in  particulars.  Is  it  possible  for 
him  to  be  unrestrained  who  desires  any  of  those  things 
that  are  within  the  power  of  others  ?  "No."  Can 
he  avoid  being  hindered  ?  "No."  Therefore  nei- 
ther can  he  be  free.  Consider,  then,  whether  we 
have  nothing  or  everything  in  our  own  sole  power,  — 
or  whether  some  things  are  in  our  own  power  and 
some  in  that  of  others.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? " 
When  you  would  have  your  body  perfect,  is  it  in  your 
own  power,  or  is  it  not  ?  "  It  is  not."  When  you 
would  be  healthy  ?  "  It  is  not."  When  you  would 
be  handsome  ?  "  It  is  not."  When  you  would  live 
or  die  ?  "  It  is  not."  Body  then  is  not  our  own ; 
but  is  subject  to  everything  that  proves  stronger  than 
itself.  "  Agreed."  Well ;  is  it  in  your  own  power 
to  have  an  estate  when  you  please,  and  such  a  one 
as  you  please?  "No."  Slaves?  "No."  Clothes? 
"No."  A  house?  "No."  Horses?  "Indeed  none 
of  these."  Well ;  if  you  desire  ever  so  earnestly  to 
have  your  children  live,  or  your  wife,  or  your  brother, 
or  your  friends,  is  it  in  your  own  power  ?  "  No,  it  is 
not." 

Will  you  then  say  that  there  is  nothing  indepen- 
dent, which  is  in  your  own  power  alone,  and  unalien- 
able ?  See  if  you  have  anything  of  this  sort.  "  I  do 
not  know."  But,  consider  it  thus :  can  any  one 
make  you  assent  to  a  falsehood  ?    "No  one."    In 


300  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

the  matter  of  assent,  then,  you  are  unrestrained  and 
unhindered.  "Agreed.''  Well,  and  can  any  one 
compel  you  to  exert  your  aims  towards  what  you  do 
not  like  ?  "  He  can.  For  when  he  threatens  me 
with  death,  or  fetters,  he  thus  compels  me."  If, 
then,  you  were  to  despise  dying  or  being  fettered, 
would  you  any  longer  regard  him  ?  "  No."  Is  des- 
pising death,  then,  an  action  in  our  power,  or  is  it 
not  ?  "  It  is."  Is  it  therefore  in  your  power  also 
to  exert  your  aims  towards  anything,  or  is  it  not  ? 
"  Agreed  that  it  is.  But  in  whose  power  is  my  avoid- 
ing anything  ?  "  This,  too,  is  in  your  own.  "  What 
then  if,  when  I  am  exerting  myself  to  walk,  any  one 
should  restrain  me  ? "  What  part  of  you  can  he 
restrain ?  Can  he  restrain  your  assent  ?  "No,  but 
my  body."  Ay,  as  he  may  a  stone.  "  Be  it  so.  But 
still  I  cease  to  walk."  And  who  claimed  that  walk- 
ing was  one  of  the  actions  that  cannot  be  restrained  ? 
For  I  only  said  that  your  exerting  yourself  towards 
it  could  not  be  restrained.  But  where  there  is  need 
of  body  and  its  assistance,  you  have  already  heard 
that  nothing  is  in  your  power.  "  Be  this,  too,  agreed." 
And  can  any  one  compel  you  to  desire  against  your 
will?  "No  one."  Or  to  propose,  or  intend,  or,  in 
short,  not  to  be  beguiled  by  the  appearances  of  things  ? 
"  Nor  this.  But  when  I  desire  anything,  he  can  re- 
strain me  from  obtaining  what  I  desire."  If  you 
desire  anything  that  is  truly  within  your  reach,  and 
that  cannot  be  restrained,  how  can  he  restrain  you  ? 
"  By  no  means."  And  pray  who  claims  that  he  who 
longs  for  what  depends  on  another  will  be  free  from 
restraint  ? 

"  May  I  not  long  for  health,  then  ?  "    By  no  means ; 
nor  anything  else  that  depends  on  another ;  for  what 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  301 

is  not  in  your  own  power,  either  to  procure  or  to  pre- 
serve when  yon  will,  that  belongs  to  another.  Keep 
off  not  only  your  hands  from  it,  but  even  more  than 
these,  your  desires.  Otherwise  you  have  given  your- 
self up  as  a  slave  ;  you  have  put  your  neck  under  the 
yoke,  if  you  admire  any  of  the  things  which  are  not 
your  own,  but  which  are  subject  and  mortal,  to  which 
of  them  soever  you  are  attached.  "  Is  not  my  hand 
my  own  ?  "  It  is  a  part  of  you,  but  it  is  by  nature  clay, 
liable  to  restraint,  to  compulsion ;  a  slave  to  everything 
stronger  than  itself.  And  why  do  I  say,  your  hand  ? 
You  ought  to  hold  your  whole  body  but  as  a  useful 
ass,  with  a  pack-saddle  on,  so  long  as  may  be,  so  long 
as  it  is  allowed  you.  But  if  there  should  come  a  mil- 
itary conscription,  and  a  soldier  should  lay  hold  on 
it,  let  it  go.  Bo  not  resist,  or  murmur ;  otherwise 
you  will  be  first  beaten  and  lose  the  ass  after  all. 
And  since  you  are  thus  to  regard  even  the  body  itself, 
think  what  remains  to  do  concerning  things  to  be  pro- 
vided for  the  sake  of  the  body.  If  that  be  an  ass,  the 
rest  are  but  bridles,  pack-saddles,  shoes,  oats,  hay,  for 
him.  Let  these  go,  too.  Quit  them  yet  more  easily 
and  expeditiously.  And  when  you  are  thus  prepared 
and  trained  to  distinguish  what  belongs  to  others 
from  your  own,  what  is  liable  to  restraint  from  what 
is  not ;  to  esteem  the  one  your  own  property,  but  not 
the  other  ;  to  keep  your  desire,  to  keep  your  aversion 
carefully  regulated  by  this  point ;  whom  have  you 
any  longer  to  fear  ?  "  No  one."  For  about  what 
should  you  be  afraid  ?  About  what  is  your  own,  in 
which  consists  the  essence  of  good  and  evil  ?  And 
who  has  any  power  over  this?  Who  can  take  it 
away?  Who  can  hinder  you,  any  more  than  God 
can  be  hindered.     But  are  you  afraid  for  body,  for 


302  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

possessions,  for  what  belongs  to  others,  for  what  is 
nothing  to  you  ?  And  what  have  you  been  studying 
all  this  while,  but  to  distinguish  between  your  own 
and  that  which  is  not  your  own;  what  is  in  your 
power  and  what  is  not  in  your  power  ;  what  is  liable 
to  restraint  and  what  is  not  ?  And  for  what  purpose 
have  you  applied  to  the  philosophers  ?  That  you 
might  nevertheless  be  disappointed  and  unfortunate  ? 
No  doubt  you  will  be  exempt  from  fear  and  pertur- 
bation !  And  what  is  grief  to  you  ?  For  whatsoever 
we  anticipate  with  fear,  we  endure  with  grief.  And 
for  what  will  you  any  longer  passionately  wish  ?  For 
you  have  a  temperate  and  steady  desire  of  things  de- 
pendent on  will,  since  they  are  accessible  and  desira- 
ble ;  and  you  have  no  desire  of  things  uncontrollable 
by  will,  so  as  to  leave  room  for  that  irrational,  and 
impetuous,  and  precipitate  passion. 

Since  then  you  are  thus  affected  with  regard  to 
things,  what  man  can  any  longer  be  formidable  to 
you  ?  What  has  man  that  he  can  be  formidable 
to  man,  either  in  appearance,  or  speech,  or  mutual 
intercourse  ?  No  more  than  horse  to  horse,  or  dog 
to  dog,  or  bee  to  bee.  But  things  are  formidable  to 
every  one,  and  whenever  any  person  can  either  give 
these  to  another,  or  take  them  away,  he  becomes  for- 
midable too.  "  How,  then,  is  this  citadel  to  be  de- 
stroyed ? "  Not  by  sword  or  fire,  but  by  principle. 
For  if  we  should  demolish  the  visible  citadel,  shall 
we  have  demolished  also  that  of  some  fever,  of  some 
fair  woman,  in  short,  the  citadel  [of  temptation] 
within  ourselves ;  and  have  turned  out  the  tyrants 
to  whom  we  are  subject  upon  all  occasions  and  every 
day,  sometimes  the  same,  sometimes  others  ?  From 
hence  we  must  begin ;  hence  demolish  the  citadel, 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  303 

and  turn  out  the  tyrants ;  —  give  up  body,  members, 
riches,  power,  fame,  magistracies,  honors,  children, 
brothers,  friends;  esteem  all  these  as  belonging  to 
others.  And  if  the  tyrants  be  turned  out  from  hence, 
why  should  I  besides  demolish  the  external  citadel, 
at  least  on  my  own  account  ?  For  what  harm  to 
me  from  its  standing  ?  Why  should  I  turn  out  the 
guards  ?  For  in  what  point  do  they  affect  me  ?  It  is 
against  others  that  they  direct  their  fasces,  their 
staves,  and  their  swords.  Have  I  ever  been  re- 
strained from  what  I  willed,  or  compelled  against  my 
will  ?  Indeed,  how  is  this  possible  ?  I  have  placed 
my  pursuits  under  the  direction  of  God.  Is  it  His 
will  that  I  should  have  a  fever  ?  It  is  my  will  too. 
Is  it  His  will  that  I  should  pursue  anything  ?  It  is 
my  will,  too.  Is  it  His  will  that  I  should  desire  ? 
It  is  my  will  too.  Is  it  His  will  that  I  should  obtain 
anything  ?  It  is  mine  too.  Is  it  not  His  will  ?  It 
is  not  mine.  Is  it  His  will  that  I  should  be  tortured  ? 
Then  it  is  my  will  to  be  tortured.  Is  it  His  will  that 
I  should  die  ?  Then  it  is  my  will  to  die.  Who  can 
any  longer  restrain  or  compel  me,  contrary  to  my 
own  opinion  ?    No  more  than  Zeus. 

It  is  thus  that  cautious  travellers  act.  Does  some 
one  hear  that  the  road  is  beset  by  robbers  ?  He  does 
not  set  out  alone,  but  waits  for  the  retinue  of  an  am- 
bassador, or  quaestor,  or  proconsul ;  and  when  he  has 
joined  himself  to  their  company,  goes  along  in  safety. 
Thus  does  the  prudent  man  act  in  the  world.  There 
are  many  robberies,  tyrants,  storms,  distresses,  losses 
of  things  most  dear.  Where  is  there  any  refuge  ? 
How  can  he  go  alone  unattacked  ?  What  retinue 
can  he  wait  for,  to  go  safely  through  his  journey  ? 
To  what  company  shall  he  join  himself?    To  some 


304  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

rich  man  ?  To  some  consular  senator  ?  And  what 
good  will  that  do  me  ?  He  may  be  robbed  himself, 
groaning  and  lamenting.  And  what  if  my  fellow- 
traveller  himself  should  turn  against  me  and  rob 
me  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  say,  I  will  be  the  friend 
of  Caesar.  While  I  am  his  companion,  no  one  will 
injure  me.  Yet  before  I  can  become  illustrious 
enough  for  this,  what  must  I  bear  and  suffer !  How 
often,  and  by  how  many,  must  I  be  robbed !  And, 
then,  if  I  do  become  the  friend  of  Caesar,  he  too  is 
mortal ;  and  if,  by  any  accident,  he  should  become 
my  enemy,  where  can  I  best  retreat  ?  To  a  desert  ? 
Well ;  and  may  not  a  fever  come  there  ?  What  can 
be  done  then  ?  Is  it  not  possible  to  find  a  fellow-trav- 
eller, safe,  faithful,  brave,  incapable  of  being  sur- 
prised? A  person  who  reasons  thus,  understands 
and  considers  that,  if  he  joins  himself  to  God,  he 
shall  go  safely  through  his  journey. 

"How  do  you  mean,  join  himself?"  That  what 
ever  is  the  will  of  God  may  be  his  will  too:  that 
whatever  is  not  the  will  of  God  may  not  be  his. 
"  How,  then,  can  this  be  done  ?  "  Why,  how  other- 
wise than  by  considering  the  workings  of  God's  power 
and  his  administration  ?  What  has  he  given  me  to 
be  my  own,  and  independent  ?  What  has  he  reserved 
to  himself?  He  has  given  me  whatever  depends  on 
will.  The  things  within  my  power  he  has  made  in- 
capable of  hindrance  or  restraint.  But  how  could  he 
make  a  body  of  clay  incapable  of  hindrance  ?  There- 
fore he  has  subjected  possessions,  furniture,  house, 
children,  wife,  to  the  revolutions  of  the  universe. 
Why,  then,  do  I  fight  against  God  ?  Why  do  I  will 
to  retain  that  which  depends  not  on  will?  That 
which  is  not  granted  absolutely ;  but  how  ?     In  such 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  305 

a  manner,  and  for  such  a  time  as  was  thought  proper. 
But  he  who  gave  takes  away.  Why,  then,  do  I  re- 
sist? Besides  being  a  fool,  in  contending  with  a 
stronger  than  myself,  I  shall  be  unjust,  which  is  a 
more  important  consideration.  For  whence  had  I 
these  things,  when  I  came  into  the  world?  My 
father  gave  them  to  me.  And  who  gave  them  to 
him?  And  who  made  the  sun?  Who  the  fruits? 
Who  the  seasons  ?  Who  their  connection  and  rela- 
tions with  each  other  ?  And  after  you  have  received 
all,  and  even  your  very  self  from  another,  are  you 
angry  with  the  giver;  and  do  you  complain  if  He 
takes  anything  away  from  you  ?  Who  are  you ;  and 
for  what  purpose  did  you  come  ?  Was  it  not  He  who 
brought  you  here  ?  Was  it  not  He  who  showed  you 
the  light  ?  Hath  not  He  given  you  companions  ? 
Hath  not  He  given  you  senses  ?  Hath  not  He  given 
you  reason  ?  And  as  whom  did  He  bring  you  here  ? 
Was  it  not  as  a  mortal  ?  Was  it  not  as  one  to  live 
with  a  little  portion  of  flesh  upon  earth,  and  to  see 
his  administration ;  to  behold  the  spectacle  with  Him, 
and  partake  of  the  festival  for  a  short  time  ?  After 
having  beheld  the  spectacle  and  the  solemnity,  then, 
as  long  as  it  is  permitted  you,  will  you  not  depart 
when  He  leads  you  out,  adoring  and  thankful  for 
what  you  have  heard  and  seen  ?  "No;  but  I  would 
enjoy  the  feast  still  longer."  So  would  the  initiated 
[in  the  mysteries] ,  too,  be  longer  in  their  initiation  ; 
so,  perhaps,  would  the  spectators  at  Olympia  see  more 
combatants.  But  the  solemnity  is  over.  Go  away. 
Depart  like  a  grateful  and  modest  person ;  make 
room  for  others.  Others,  too,  must  be  born  as  you 
were ;  and  when  they  are  born  must  have  a  place, 
and  habitations,  and  necessaries.  But  if  the  first  do 
20 


306  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

not  give  way,  what  room  is  there  left  ?  Why  are  you 
insatiable,  unconscionable  ?  Why  do  you  crowd  the 
world  ? 

"  Ay,  but  I  would  have  my  wife  and  children  with 
me  too."  Why,  are  they  yours  t  Are  they  not  the 
Giver's  ?  Are  they  not  His  who  made  you  also  ? 
Will  you  not  then  quit  what  belongs  to  another? 
Will  you  not  yield  to  your  Superior  ?  "  Why,  then, 
did  he  bring  me  into  the  world  upon  these  condi- 
tions ?  "  Well ;  if  it  is  not  worth  your  while,  depart. 
He  hath  no  need  of  a  discontented  spectator.  He 
wants  such  as  will  share  the  festival ;  make  part  of 
the  chorus ;  who  will  extol,  applaud,  celebrate  the 
solemnity.  He  will  not  be  displeased  to  see  the 
wretched  and  fearful  dismissed  from  it.  For  when 
they  were  present  fliey  did  not  behave  as  at  a  festival 
nor  fill  a  proper  place,  but  lamented,  found  fault  with 
the  Deity,  with  their  fortune,  with  their  companions. 
They  were  insensible  both  of  their  advantages  and 
of  the  powers  which  they  received  for  far  different 
purposes ;  the  powers  of  magnanimity,  nobleness  of 
spirit,  fortitude,  and  that  which  now  concerns  us, 
freedom.  "  For  what  purpose,  then,  have  I  received 
these  things  ?  "  To  use  them.  "  How  long  tM-  As 
long  as  He  who  lent  them  pleases.  If,  then,  they 
are  not  necessary,  do  not  make  an  idol  of  them,  and 
they  will  not  be  so ;  do  not  tell  yourself  that  they  are 
necessary,  when  they  are  not. 

This  should  be  our  study  from  morning  till  night, 
beginning  with  the  least  and  frailest  things,  as  with 
earthen-ware,  with  glass-ware.  Afterwards,  proceed 
to  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  dog,  a  horse,  an  estate  ;  thence 
to  yourself,  body,  members,  children,  wife,  brothers. 
Look  everywhere  around  you,  and  be  able  to  detach 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  307 

yourself  from  these  things.  Correct  your  principles. 
Permit  nothing  to  cleave  to  you  that  is  not  your  own ; 
nothing  to  grow  to  you  that  may  give  you  agony 
when  it  is  torn  away.  And  say,  when  you  are  daily 
training  yourself  as  you  do  here,  not  that  you  act  the 
philosopher,  which  may  be  a  presumptuous  claim,  but 
that  you  are  asserting  your  freedom.  For  this  is  true 
freedom.  This  is  the  freedom  that  Diogenes  gained 
from  Antisthenes ;  and  declared  it  was  impossible 
that  he  should  ever  after  be  a  slave  to  any  one. 
Hence,  when  he  was  taken  prisoner,  how  did  he  treat 
the  pirates  ?  Did  he  call  any  of  them  master  ?  I  do 
not  mean  the  name,  for  I  am  not  afraid  of  a  word, 
but  of  the  disposition  from  whence  the  word  proceeds. 
How  did  he  reprove  them  for  feeding  their  prisoners 
ill  ?  How  was  he  sold  ?  Did  he  seek  a  master  ? 
No ;  but  a  slave.  And  when  he  was  sold,  how  did 
he  converse  with  his  lord  ?  He  immediately  disputed 
with  him  whether  he  ought  to  be  dressed  or  shaved 
in  the  manner  he  was  ;  and  how  he  ought  to  bring 
up  his  children.  And  where  is  the  wonder  ?  For 
if  the  same  master  had  bought  some  one  to  instruct 
his  children  in  gymnastic  exercises,  would  he  in  those 
exercises  have  treated  him  as  a  servant  or  as  a  mas- 
ter ?  And  so  if  he  had  bought  a  physician  or  an 
architect?  In  every  department  the  skilful  must 
necessarily  be  superior  to  the  unskilful.  What  else, 
then,  can  he  be  but  master,  who  possesses  the  uni- 
versal knowledge  of  life  ?  For  who  is  master  in  a 
ship  ?  The  pilot.  Why  ?  Because  whoever  disobeys 
him  is  a  loser.  "  But  a  master  can  put  me  in 
chains."  Can  he  do  it  then,  without  being  a  loser  ? 
"  I  think  not,  indeed."  But  because  he  must  be  a 
loser,  he  evidently  must  not  do  it ;  for  no  one  acts 


308  THE  DISCOUKSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

unjustly  without  being  a  loser.  —  "  And  how  does  he 
suffer,  who  puts  his  own  slave  in  chains  ?  "  What 
think  you?  From  the  very  fact  of  chaining  him. 
This  you  yourself  must  grant,  if  you  would  hold  to 
the  doctrine  that  man  is  not  naturally  a  wild,  but  a 
gentle  animal.  For  when  is  it  that  a  vine  is  in  a  bad 
condition  ?  "  When  it  is  in  a  condition  contrary  to 
its  nature. "  How  is  it  with  a  cock  ?  "  The  same." 
It  is  therefore  the  same  with  a  man  also.  What  is 
his  nature  ?  To  bite,  and  kick,  and  throw  into  prison, 
and  cut  off  heads  ?  No,  but  to  do  good,  to  assist,  to 
indulge  the  wishes  of  others.  Whether  you  will  or 
not,  then,  he  is  in  a  bad  condition  whenever  he  acts 
unreasonably.  "  And  so  was  not  Socrates  in  a  bad 
condition  ?  "  No,  but  his  judges  and  accusers.  "  Nor 
Helvidius,  at  Rome  ?  "  No,  but  his  murderer.  "  How 
do  you  talk  ?  "  Why,  just  as  you  do.  You  do  not  call 
that  cock  in  a  bad  condition  which  is  victorious,  and 
yet  wounded  ;  but  that  which  is  conquered  and  comes 
off  unhurt.  Nor  do  you  call  a  dog  happy  which  nei- 
ther hunts  nor  toils ;  but  when  you  see  him  perspir- 
ing, and  distressed,  and  panting  with  the  chase.  In 
what  do  we  talk  paradoxes  ?  If  we  say  that  the  evil 
of  everything  consists  in  what  is  contrary  to  its  na- 
ture, is  this  a  paradox  ?  Do  you  not  say  it  with  re- 
gard to  other  things?  Why,  therefore,  in  the  case 
of  man  alone,  do  you  take  a  different  view  ?  But 
further  ;  it  is  no  paradox  to  say  that  by  nature  man 
is  gentle  and  social,  and  faithful.  "  This  is  none." 
How  then  [is  it  a  paradox  to  say]  that,  when  he  is 
whipped,  or  imprisoned,  or  beheaded,  he  is  not  hurt  ? 
If  he  suffers  nobly  does  he  not  come  off  even  the  bet- 
ter and  a  gainer  ?  But  he  is  the  person  hurt  who 
suffers  the  most  miserable  and  shameful  evils ;  who, 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  309 

instead  of  a  man,  becomes  a  wolf,  a  viper,  or  a  hor- 
net. 

Come,  then;  let  us  recapitulate  what  has  been 
granted.  The  man  who  is  unrestrained,  who  has  all 
things  in  his  power  as  he  wills,  is  free ;  but  he  who 
may  be  restrained,  or  compelled,  or  hindered,  or 
thrown  into  any  condition  against  his  will,  is  a  slave. 
"And  who  is  unrestrained  ?  "  He  who  desires  none 
of  those  things  that  belong  to  others.  "  And  what 
are  those  things,  which  belong  to  others  ?  "  Those 
which  are  not  in  our  own  power,  either  to  have  or 
not  to  have ;  or  to  have  them  thus  or  so.  Body, 
therefore,  belongs  to  another ;  its  parts  to  another ; 
property  to  another.  If,  then,  you  attach  yourself  to 
any  of  these  as  your  own,  you  will  be  punished,  as  he 
deserves  who  desires  what  belongs  to  others.  This 
is  the  way  that  leads  to  freedom ;  this  the  only  deliv- 
erance from  slavery ;  to  be  able  at  length  to  say,  from 
the  bottom  of  one's  soul : 

"  Conduct  me,  Zeus,  and  thou,  O  destiny, 
Wherever  your  decrees  have  fixed  my  lot."  * 

But  what  say  you,  philosopher?  A  tyrant  calls 
upon  you  to  speak  something  unbecoming  you.  Will 
you  say  it,  or  will  you  not  ?  "  Stay,  let  me  con- 
sider." Would  you  consider  now?  And  what  did 
you  use  to  consider  when  you  were  in  the  schools  ? 
Did  you  not  study  what  things  were  good  and  evil, 
and  what  indifferent?  "I  did."  Well;  and  what 
were  the  opinions  which  pleased  us  ?  — "  That  just 
and  fair  actions  were  good ;  unjust  and  base  ones, 
evil."     Is  living  a  good  ?     "  No."     Dying,  an  evil  ? 

*  A  Fragment  of  Cleanthes,  before  quoted ;  and  given  in  full  in 
Enchiridion,  c.  52.  —  H. 


310  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

"  No."  A  prison  ?  "  No."  And  what  did  a  mean 
and  dishonest  speech,  the  betraying  a  friend,  or  the 
flattering  a  tyrant,  appear  to  us?  "  Evils."  Why, 
then,  are  you  still  considering,  and  have  not  already 
considered  and  come  to  a  resolution  ?  For  what  sort 
of  a  consideration  is  this :  —  "  Whether  I  ought,  when 
it  is  in  my  power,  to  procure  myself  the  greatest  good, 
instead  of  procuring  myself  the  greatest  evil.,,  A 
fine  and  necessary  consideration,  truly,  and  deserv- 
ing mighty  deliberation  !  Why  do  you  trifle  with  us, 
man  ?  No  one  ever  needed  to  consider  any  such 
point;  nor,  if  you  really  imagined  things  fair  and 
honest  to  be  good,  things  base  and  dishonest  to  be 
evil,  and  all  other  things  indifferent,  would  you  ever 
be  in  such  a  perplexity  as  this,  or  near  it ;  but  you 
would  presently  be  able  to  distinguish  by  your  under- 
standing as  you  do  by  your  sight.  For  do  you  ever 
have  to  consider  whether  black  is  white  ;  or  whether 
light  is  heavy  ?  Do  you  not  follow  the  plain  evidence 
of  your  senses  ?  Why,  then,  do  you  say  that  you  are 
now  considering  whether  things  indifferent  are  to  be 
avoided,  rather  than  evils  ?  The  truth  is,  you  have 
no  principles ;  for  things  indifferent  do  not  impress 
you  as  such,  but  as  the  greatest  evils ;  and  these,  on 
the  other  hand,  as  things  of  no  importance. 

For  thus  has  been  your  practice  from  the  first. 
"  Where  am  I  ?  If  I  am  in  the  school  and  there  is 
an  audience,  I  talk  as  the  philosophers  do.  But  if  I 
am  out  of  the  school,  then  away  with  this  stuff  that 
belongs  only  to  scholars  and  fools."  This  man  is 
accused  by  the  testimony  of  a  philosopher,  his  friend ; 
this  philosopher  turns  parasite  ;  another  hires  himself 
out  for  money ;  a  third  does  that  in  the  very  senate. 
When  one  is  not  governed  by  appearances,  then  his 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  311 

principles  speak  for  themselves.  You  are  a  poor  cold 
lump  of  prejudice,  consisting  of  mere  phrases,  on 
which  you  hang  as  by  a  hair.  You  should  preserve 
yourself  firm  and  practical,  remembering  that  you 
are  to  deal  with  real  things.  In  what  manner  do 
you  hear,  —  I  will  not  say  that  your  child  is  dead,  for 
low  could  you  possibly  bear  that  ?  —  but  that  your 
oil  is  spilled,  your  wine  consumed?  Would  that 
some  one,  while  you  are  bawling,  would  only  say  this : 
<:  Philosopher,  you  talk  quite  otherwise  when  in  the 
schools.  Why  do  you  deceive  us  ?  Why,  when  you 
Lre  a  worm,  do  you  call  yourself  a  man  !  * •  I  should 
be  glad  to  be  near  one  of  these  philosophers,  while 
he  is  revelling  in  debauchery,  that  I  might  see  how 
he  demeans  himself,  and  what  sayings  he  utters  ; 
whether  he  remembers  the  title  he  bears  and  the  dis- 
courses which  he  hears,  or  speaks,  or  reads. 

"  And  what  is  all  this  to  freedom  ?  "  It  lies  in 
nothing  else  but  this  ;  whether  you  rich  people  ap- 
prove or  not.  "  And  who  is  your  evidence  of  this  ?  " 
Who,  but  yourselves  ?  You  who  have  a  powerful 
master,  and  live  by  his  motion  and  nod,  and  faint 
away  if  he  does  but  look  sternly  upon  you,  who  pay 
your  court  to  old  men  and  old  women,  and  say,  "  I 
cannot  do  this  or  that,  it  is  not  in  my  power."  Why 
is  it  not  in  your  power  ?  Did  not  you  just  now  con- 
tradict me,  and  say  you  were  free  ?  "  But  Aprylla 
has  forbidden  me."  Speak  the  truth,  then,  slave, 
and  do  not  run  away  from  your  masters  nor  deny 
them,  nor  dare  to  assert  your  freedom,  when  you 
have  so  many  proofs  of  your  slavery.  One  might 
indeed  find  some  excuse  for  a  person  compelled  by 
love  to  do  something  contrary  to  his  opinion,  even 
when  at  the  same  time  he  sees  what  is  best  without 


312  THE  DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS. 

having  resolution  enough  to  follow  it,  since  he  is 
withheld  by  something  overpowering,  and  in  some 
measure  divine.  But  who  can  bear  you,  who  are  in 
love  with  old  men  and  old  women ;  and  perform 
menial  offices  for  them,  and  bribe  them  with  presents, 
and  wait  upon  them  like  a  slave  when  they  are  sick ; 
at  the  same  time  wishing  they  may  die,  and  inquir- 
ing of  the  physician  whether  their  distemper  be  yet 
mortal  ?  And  again,  when  for  these  great  and  ven- 
erable magistracies  and  honors  you  kiss  the  hands  oi 
the  slaves  of  others ;  so  that  you  are  the  slave  of  those 
who  are  not  free  themselves !  And  then  you  walk 
about  in  state,  a  praetor  or  a  consul.  Do  I  not  know 
how  you  came  to  be  praetor;  whence  you  received 
the  consulship ;  who  gave  it  to  you  ?  For  my  own 
part,  I  would  not  even  live,  if  I  must  live  by  Felicio's 
means,  and  bear  his  pride  and  slavish  insolence.  For 
I  know  what  a  slave  is,  blinded  by  what  he  thinks 
good  fortune. 

"  Are  you  free  yourself,  then  ? "  you  may  ask. 
By  Heaven,  I  wish  and  pray  for  it.  But  I  own  I  can- 
not yet  face  my  masters.  I  still  pay  a  regard  to  my 
body,  and  set  a  great  value  on  keeping  it  whole ; 
though,  for  that  matter,  it  is  not  whole.  But  I  can 
show  you  one  who  was  free,  that  you  may  no  longer 
seek  an  example.  Diogenes  was  free.  "  How  so  ?  " 
Not  because  he  was  of  free  parents,  for  he  was  not ; 
but  because  he  was  so  in  himself;  because  he  had 
cast  away  all  which  gives  a  handle  to  slavery;  nor 
was  there  any  way  of  getting  at  him,  nor  anywhere 
to  lay  hold  on  him,  to  enslave  him.  Everything  sat 
loose  upon  him,  everything  only  just  hung  on.  If 
you  took  hold  on  his  possessions,  he  would  rather  let 
them  go  than  follow  you  for  them ;  if  on  his  leg,  he 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  313 

let  go  his  leg ;  if  his  body,  he  let  go  his  body ;  ac- 
quaintance, friends,  country,  just  the  same.  For  he 
knew  whence  he  had  them,  and  from  whom,  and 
upon  what  conditions  he  received  them.  But  he 
would  never  have  forsaken  his  true  parents,  the  gods, 
and  his  real  country  [the  universe]  ;  nor  have  suf- 
fered any  one  to  be  more  dutiful  and  obedient  to 
them  than  he ;  nor  would  any  one  have  died  more 
readily  for  his  country  than  he.  For  he  never  had 
to  inquire  whether  he  should  act  for  the  good  of  the 
whole  universe ;  for  he  remembered  that  everything 
that  exists  belongs  to  that  administration,  and  is  com- 
manded by  its  ruler.  Accordingly,  see  what  he  him- 
self says  and  writes.  "  Upon  this  account,"  said  he, 
"  0  Diogenes,  it  is  in  your  power  to  converse  as  you 
will  with  the  Persian  monarch  and  with  Archidamus, 
king  of  the  Lacedemonians."  Was  it  because  he  was 
born  of  free  parents  ?  Or  was  it  because  they  were 
descended  from  slaves,  that  all  the  Athenians,  and 
all  the  Lacedemonians,  and  Corinthians,  could  not 
converse  with  them  as  they  pleased ;  but  feared  and 
paid  court  to  them  ?  Why  then  is  it  in  your  power, 
Diogenes  ?  "  Because  I  do  not  esteem  this  poor  body 
as  my  own.  Because  I  want  nothing.  Because  this, 
and  nothing  else  is  a  law  to  me."  These  were  the 
things  that  enabled  him  to  be  free. 

And  that  you  may  not  urge  that  I  show  you  the 
example  of  a  man  clear  of  incumbrances,  without  a 
wife  or  children,  or  country,  or  friends,  or  relations, 
to  bend  and  draw  him  aside ;  —  take  Socrates,  and 
consider  him,  who  had  a  wife  and  children,  but  held 
them  not  as  his  own ;  had  a  country,  friends,  rela- 
tions, but  held  them  only  so  long  as  it  was  proper, 
and  in  the  manner  that  was  proper ;  submitting  all 


314  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

these  to  the  law  and  to  the  obedience  due  to  it. 
Hence,  when  it  was  proper  to  fight,  he  was  the  first 
to  go  out,  and  exposed  himself  to  danger  without  the 
least  reserve.  But  when  ho  was  sent  by  the  thirty 
tyrants  to  apprehend  Leon,*  because  he  esteemed  it  a 
base  action,  he  did  not  even  deliberate  about  it; 
though  he  knew  that,  perhaps,  he  might  die  for  it. 
But  what  did  that  signify  to  him  ?  For  it  was  some- 
thing else  that  he  wanted  to  preserve,  not  his  mere 
flesh ;  but  his  fidelity,  his  honor  free  from  attack  or 
subjection.  And  afterwards,  when  he  was  to  make 
a  defence  for  his  life,  does  he  behave  like  one  hav- 
ing children  ?  Or  a  wife  ?  No  ;  but  like  a  single 
man.  And  how  does  he  behave,  when  required 
to  drink  the  poison  ?  When  he  might  escape  and 
Crito  would  have  him  escape  from  prison  for  the 
sake  of  his  children,  what  says  he  ?  Does  he  esteem 
it  a  fortunate  opportunity  ?  How  should  he  ?  But 
he  considers  what  is  becoming,  and  neither  sees  nor 
regards  anything  else.  "  For  I  am  not  desirous,"  he 
says,  "  to  preserve  this  pitiful  body ;  but  that  part 
which  is  improved  and  preserved  by  justice,  and  im- 
paired and  destroyed  by  injustice."  Socrates  is  not  to 
be  basely  preserved.  He  who  refused  to  vote  for  what 
the  Athenians  commanded ;  he,  who  contemned  the 
thirty  tyrants ;  he,  who  held  such  discourses  on  vir- 
tue and  moral  beauty ;  such  a  man  is  not  to  be  pre- 

*  Socrates,  with  four  other  persons,  was  commanded  by  the  thirty 
tyrants  of  Athens  to  fetch  Leon  from  the  isle  of  Salamis,  in  order  to 
be  put  to  death.  His  companions  executed  their  commission ;  but 
Socrates  remained  at  home,  and  chose  rather  to  expose  his  life  to  the 
fury  of  the  tyrants,  than  be  accessary  to  the  death  of  an  innocent  per- 
son. He  would  most  probably  have  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  their  ven- 
geance, if  the  Oligarchy  had  not  shortly  after  been  dissolved.  See 
Plato's  Apology.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  315 

served  by  a  base  action,  but  is  preserved  by  dying, 
instead  of  running  away.  For  even  a  good  actor  is 
preserved  as  such  by  leaving  off  when  he  ought,  not 
by  going  on  to  act  beyond  his  time.  "  What  then  will 
become  of  your  children  ?  "  —  "  If  I  had  gone  away 
into  Thessaly,  you  would  have  taken  care  of  them ; 
and  will  there  be  no  one  to  take  care  of  them  when 
I  am  departed  to  Hades  ?  "  *  You  see  how  he  ridi- 
cules and  plays  with  death.  But  if  it  had  been  you 
or  I,  we  should  presently  have  proved  by  philosophi- 
cal arguments,  that  those  who  act  unjustly  are  to  be 
repaid  in  their  own  way;  and  should  have  added, 
"  If  I  escape  I  shall  be  of  use  to  many ;  if  I  die,  to 
none."  Nay,  if  it  had  been  necessary,  we  should 
have  crept  through  a  mouse-hole  to  get  away.  But 
how  should  we  have  been  of  use  to  any  ?  For  where 
must  they  have  dwelt  ?  If  we  were  useful  alive, 
should  we  not  be  of  still  more  use  to  mankind  by 
dying  when  we  ought  and  as  we  ought  ?  And  now 
the  remembrance  of  the  death  of  Socrates  is  not  less, 
but  even  more  useful  to  the  world  than  that  of  the 
things  which  he  did  and  said  when  alive. 

Study  these  points,  these  principles,  these  dis- 
courses ;  contemplate  these  examples  if  you  would 
be  free,  if  you  desire  the  thing  in  proportion  to  its 
value.  And  where  is  the  wonder  that  you  should 
purchase  so  good  a  thing  at  the  price  of  others,  so 
many,  and  so  great?  Some  hang  themselves,  others 
break  their  necks,  and  sometimes  even  whole  cities 
have  been  destroyed  for  that  which  is  reputed  free- 
dom ;  and  will  not  you  for  the  sake  of  the  true  and 
secure  and  inviolable  freedom,  repay  God  what  he 
hath  given  when  he  demands  it  ?    Will  you  not  study 

*  Plato,  Crito.  I.  15.  — H. 


316  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

not  only,  as  Plato  says,  how  to  die,  but  how  to  be  tor- 
tured and  banished  and  scourged  ;  and,  in  short,  how 
to  give  up  all  that  belongs  to  others.  If  not,  you  will 
be  a  slave  among  slaves,  though  you  were  ten  thou- 
sand times  a  consul;  and  even  though  you  should 
rise  to  the  palace  you  will  never  be  the  less  so.  And 
you  will  feel  that,  though  philosophers  (as  Cleanthes 
says)  do,  perhaps,  talk  contrary  to  common  opinion, 
yet  it  is  not  contrary  to  reason.  For  you  will  find  it 
true,  in  fact,  that  the  things  that  are  eagerly  followed 
and  admired  are  of  no  use  to  those  who  have  gained 
them ;  while  they  who  have  not  yet  gained  them  im- 
agine that,  if  they  are  acquired,  every  good  will  come 
along  with  them ;  and,  then,  when  they  are  acquired, 
there  is  the  same  feverishness,  the  same  agitation,  the 
same  nausea,  and  the  same  desire  for  what  is  absent. 
For  freedom  is  not  procured  by  a  full  enjoyment  of 
what  is  desired,  but  by  controlling  the  desire.  And 
in  order  to  know  that  this  is  true,  take  the  same 
pains  about  these  which  you  have  taken  about  other 
things.  Hold  vigils  to  acquire  a  set  of  principles 
that  will  make  you  free.  Instead  of  a  rich  old  man 
pay  your  court  to  a  philosopher.  Be  seen  about  his 
doors.  You  will  not  get  any  disgrace  by  being  seen 
there.  You  will  not  return  empty  or  unprofited  if 
you  go  as  you  ought.  However,  try  at  least.  The 
trial  is  not  dishonorable. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  317 

CHAPTER   II. 

OP    COMPLAISANCE. 

TO  this  point  you  must  attend  before  all  others ; 
not  to  be  so  attached  to  any  one  of  your  former 
acquaintances  or  friends  as  to  condescend  to  behavior 
like  his ;  otherwise  you  will  undo  yourself.  But  if 
it  comes  into  your  head,  "  I  shall  appear  odd  to  him, 
and  he  will  not  treat  me  as  before,"  remember,  that 
there  is  nothing  to  be  had  for  nothing ;  nor  is  it  pos- 
sible that  he  who  acts  in  the  same  manner  as  before, 
should  not  be  the  same  person.  Choose,  then,  wheth- 
er you  will  be  loved  by  those  who  formerly  loved 
you,  and  be  like  your  former  self ;  or  be  better,  and 
not  meet  with  the  same  treatment.  For  if  this  is 
preferable,  immediately  incline  altogether  this  way, 
and  let  no  other  kinds  of  reasoning  draw  you  aside  ; 
for  no  one  can  improve  while  he  is  wavering.  If, 
then,  you  prefer  this  to  everything,  if  you  would  be 
fixed  only  on  this,  and  employ  all  your  pains  about 
it,  give  up  everything  else.  Otherwise  this  waver- 
ing will  affect  you  in  both  ways ;  you  will  neither 
make  a  due  improvement,  nor  preserve  the  advan- 
tages you  had  before.  For  before,  by  setting  your 
heart  entirely  on  things  of  no  value,  you  were  agree- 
able to  your  companions.  But  you  cannot  excel  in 
both  styles  ;  you  must  necessarily  lose  as  much  of  the 
one  as  you  partake  of  the  other.  If  you  do  not  drink 
with  those  with  whom  you  used  to  drink,  you  cannot 
appear  equally  agreeable  to  them.  Choose,  then, 
whether  you  would  be  a  drunkard,  and  agreeable  to 
them,  —  or  sober,  and  disagreeable  to  them.     If  you 


318  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

do  not  sing  with  those  with  whom  you  used  to  sing, 
you  cannot  be  equally  dear  to  them.  Here  too,  then, 
choose  which  you  will.  For  if  it  is  better  to  be  modest 
and  decent  than  to  have  it  said  of  you  "  what  an  agree* 
able  fellow"  give  up  the  rest ;  renounce  it ;  withdraw 
yourself;  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  But  if  this 
does  not  please  you,  incline  with  your  whole  force 
the  contrary  way.  Be  one  of  the  debauchees ;  one 
of  the  adulterers.  Act  all  that  is  consistent  with 
such  a  character,  and  you  will  obtain  what  you 
would  have.  Jump  up  in  the  theatre,  too,  and  roar 
out  in  praise  of  the  dancer.  But  characters  so  dif- 
ferent are  not  to  be  confounded.  You  cannot  act 
both  Thersites  and  Agamemnon.  If  you  would  be 
Thersites,  you  must  be  hump-backed  and  bald ;  if 
Agamemnon,  great  and  noble,  and  faithful  to  those 
who  are  under  your  care. 


CHAPTER   III. 

WHAT   THINGS   ARE   TO    BE   EXCHANGED    FOR    OTHERS. 

WHEN  you  have  lost  anything  external,  have 
always  at  hand  the  consideration  of  what 
you  have  got  instead  of  it ;  and  if  that  be  of  more 
value,  do  not  by  any  means  call  yourself  a  loser ; 
whether  it  be  a  horse  for  an  ass ;  an  ox  for  a  sheep  ; 
a  good  action  for  a  piece  of  money  ;  a  due  composure 
of  mind  for  a  dull  jest ;  or  modesty  for  indecent  talk. 
By  continually  remembering  this,  you  will  preserve 
your  character  such  as  it  ought  to  be.  Otherwise, 
consider  that  you  are  spending  your  time  in  vain ; 
and  all  that  to  which  you  are  now  applying  your  mind, 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  319 

you  are  about  to  spill  and  overturn.  And  there 
needs  but  little,  merely  a  small  deviation  from  rea- 
son, to  destroy  and  overset  all.  A  pilot  does  not 
need  so  much  apparatus  to  overturn  a  ship  as  to  save 
it ;  but  if  he  exposes  it  a  little  too  much  to  the  wind, 
it  is  lost ;  even  if  he  should  not  do  it  by  design,  but 
only  for  a  moment  be  thinking  of  something  else,  it 
is  lost.  Such  is  the  case  here,  too.  If  you  do  but 
nod  a  little,  all  that  you  have  hitherto  accomplished 
is  gone.  Take  heed,  then,  to  the  appearances  of 
things.  Keep  yourself  watchful  over  them.  It  is  no 
inconsiderable  matter  that  you  have  to  guard  ;  but 
modesty,  fidelity,  constancy,  docility,  innocence,  fear- 
lessness, serenity  ;  in  short,  freedom.  For  what  will 
you  sell  these  ?  Consider  what  the  purchase  is  worth. 
"  But  shall  I  not  get  such  a  thing  instead  of  it  ?  " 
Consider,  if  you  do  not  get  it,  what  it  is  that  you  have 
instead.  Suppose  I  have  decency,  and  another  the 
office  of  tribune  ;  I  have  modesty,  and  he  the  praetor- 
ship  ?  But  I  do  not  applaud  where  it  is  unbecoming ; 
I  will  pay  no  undeserved  honor ;  for  I  am  free,  and 
the  friend  of  God,  so  as  to  obey  him  willingly ;  but  I 
must  not  value  anything  else,  neither  body,  nor  pos- 
sessions, nor  fame  ;  in  short,  nothing.  For  it  is  not 
His  will  that  I  should  value  them.  For  if  this  had 
been  His  pleasure,  He  would  have  placed  in  them 
my  good,  which  now  He  hath  not  done ;  therefore  I 
cannot  transgress  his  commands.  Seek  in  all  things 
your  own  highest  good,  —  and  for  other  aims,  recog- 
nize them  as  far  as  the  case  requires,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  reason,  contented  with  this  alone.  Other- 
wise you  will  be  unfortunate,  disappointed,  restrained, 
hindered."  These  are  the  established  laws,  these  the 
statutes.     Of  these  one  ought  to  be  an  expositor,  and 


o20  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

to  these  obedient,  rather  than  to  those  of  Masurius 
and  Casshis.* 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CONCERNING   THOSE   WHO    EARNESTLY  DESIRE  A   LD7E 
OF   REPOSE. 

REMEMBER  that  it  is  not  only  the  desire  of 
riches  and  power  that  debases  us  and  subjects 
us  to  others,  but  even  that  of  quiet,  leisure,  learning, 
or  travelling.  For,  in  general,  reverence  for  any- 
external  thing  whatever  makes  us  subject  to  others. 
Where  is  the  difference,  then,  whether  you  desire  to 
be  a  senator  or  not  to  be  a  senator  ?  Where  is  the 
difference,  whether  you  desire  power  or  to  be  out  of 
power  ?  Where  is  the  difference,  whether  you  say 
"  I  am  in  a  wretched  way,  I  have  nothing  to  do  ;  but 
am  tied  down  to  books,  as  inactive  as  if  I  were  dead"  ; 
—  or,  "  I  am  in  a  wretched  way,  I  have  no  leisure 
to  read  ? "  For  as  levees  and  power  are  among 
things  external  and  uncontrollable  by  will,  so,  like- 
wise is  a  book.  For  what  purpose  would  you  read  ? 
Tell  me.  For  if  you  rest  merely  in  being  amused 
and  learning  something,  you  are  insignificant  and 
miserable.  But  if  you  refer  it  to  the  proper  end, 
what  is  that  but  a  life  truly  prosperous  ?  And  if 
reading  does  not  procure  you  a  prosperous  life,  of 
what  use  is  it.  "  But  it  does  procure  a  prosperous 
life  (say  you)  ;  and  therefore  I  am  uneasy  at  being 
deprived  of  it."  And  what  sort  of  prosperity  is  that 
which  everything  can  hinder ;  —  I  do  not  say  Caesar 
alone,  or  Caesar's  friend,  but  a  crow,  a  man  practis- 

*  Two  famous  lawyers.  —  C. 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  321 

ing  the  flute,  a  fever,  or  ten  thousand  other  things  ? 
But  nothing  is  so  essential  to  prosperity  as  that  it 
should  be  permanent  and  unhindered.  Suppose  I 
am  now  called  to  do  something.  I  now  go,  therefore, 
and  will  be  attentive  to  the  bounds  and  measures 
which  ought  to  be  observed;  that  I  may  act  mod- 
estly, steadily,  and  without  desire  or  aversion  as  to 
externals.  In  the  next  place,  I  am  attentive  to  other 
men ;  what  they  say,  and  how  they  are  moved  ;  and 
that  not  from  ill-nature,  nor  that  I  may  have  an  op- 
portunity for  censure  or  ridicule ;  but  I  turn  to  my- 
self. "  Am  I  also  guilty  of  the  same  faults ;  and 
how  then  shall  I  leave  them  off?  "  or,  "  I  once  thus 
erred,  but,  God  be  thanked,  not  now."  Well ;  when 
you  have  done  thus,  and  been  employed  on  such 
things,  have  you  not  done  as  good  a  work  as  if  you 
had  read  a  thousand  lines  or  written  as  many  ?  For 
are  you  uneasy  at  not  reading  while  you  are  eating  ? 
When  you  eat,  or  bathe,  or  exercise,  are  you  not  sat- 
isfied with  doing  it  in  a  manner  corresponding  to 
what  you  have  read  ?  Why,  then,  do  you  not  reason 
in  like  manner  about  everything  ?  When  you  ap- 
proach Caesar  or  any  other  person,  if  you  preserve 
yourself  dispassionate,  fearless,  sedate;  if  you  are 
rather  an  observer  of  what  is  done  than  the  subject 
of  observation ;  if  you  do  not  envy  those  who  are 
preferred  to  you ;  if  you  are  not  overcome  by  the 
occasion,  what  need  you  more  ?  Books  ?  How,  or 
to  what  end  ?  For  these  are  not  the  real  preparation 
for  living,  but  living  is  made  up  of  things  very  differ- 
ent. Just  as  if  a  champion,  when  he  enters  the  lists, 
should  begin  crying  because  he  is  not  still  exercising 
without.  It  was  for  this  that  you  were  exercised. 
For  this  were  the  dumb-bells,  the  dust,  and  your 
21 


322  THE  DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

young  antagonists.  And  do  you  now  seek  for  these 
when  it  is  the  time  for  actual  business  ?  This  is  just 
as  if,  in  forming  our  opinions,  when  perplexed  be- 
tween true  and  false  semblances,  we  should,  instead 
of  practically  distinguishing  between  them,  merely 
peruse  dissertations  on  evidence. 

What,  then,  is  the  trouble  ?  That  we  have  neither 
learned  by  reading,  nor  by  writing,  how  to  deal  prac- 
tically with  the  semblances  of  things,  according  to 
the  laws  of  nature.  But  we  stop  at  learning  what  is 
said,  and,  being  able  to  explain  it  to  others,  at  solv- 
ing syllogisms  and  arranging  hypothetical  arguments. 
Hence  where  the  study  is,  there,  too,  is  the  hindrance. 
Do  you  desire  absolutely  what  is  out  of  your  power  ? 
Be  restrained  then,  be  hindered,  be  disappointed. 
But  if  we  were  to  read  dissertations  about  the  exer- 
tion of  our  efforts,  not  merely  to  see  what  might  be 
said  about  our  efforts,  but  to  exert  them  well;  on 
desire  and  aversion,  that  we  might  not  be  disap- 
pointed of  our  desires,  nor  incur  our  aversions ;  on 
the  duties  of  life,  that,  mindful  of  our  relations,  we 
might  do  nothing  irrational  nor  inconsistent  with 
them ;  then  we  should  not  be  provoked  at  being  hin- 
dered in  our  reading ;  but  should  be  contented  with 
the  performance  of  actions  suitable  to  us,  and  should 
learn  a  new  standard  of  computation.  Not,  "  To-day 
I  have  perused  so  many  lines ;  I  have  written  so 
many  "  ;  but,  "  To-day  I  have  used  my  efforts  as  the 
philosophers  direct.  I  have  restrained  my  desires 
absolutely  ;  I  have  applied  my  aversion  only  to  things 
controllable  by  will.  I  have  not  been  terrified  by 
such  a  one,  nor  put  out  of  countenance  by  such 
another.  I  have  exercised  my  patience,  my  absti- 
nence, my  beneficence."  And  thus  we  should  thank 
God  for  what  we  ought  to  thank  him. 


THE   DISCOUKSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  323 

But  now  we  resemble  the  crowd  in  another  way 
also,  and  do  not  know  it.  One  is  afraid  that  he  shall 
not  be  in  power ;  you,  that  you  shall.  By  no  means 
be  afraid  of  it,  man  ;  but  as  you  laugh  at  him,  laugh 
at  yourself.  For  there  is  no  difference,  whether  you 
thirst  like  one  in  a  fever,  or  dread  water  like  him 
who  is  bit  by  a  mad  dog.  Else  how  can  you  say,  like 
Socrates,  "  If  it  so  pleases  God,  so  let  it  be  ?  "  Do 
you  think  that  Socrates,  if  he  had  fixed  his  desires 
on  the  leisure  of  the  lyceum  or  the  academy,  or  the 
conversation  of  the  youth  there,  day  after  day,  would 
have  made  so  many  campaigns  as  he  did,  so  readily  ? 
Would  not  he  have  lamented  and  groaned :  "  How 
wretched  am  I !  now  must  I  be  miserable  here,  when 
I  might  be  sunning  myself  in  the  lyceum  ?  "  Was 
that  your  business  in  life,  then,  to  sun  yourself? 
Was  it  not  to  be  truly  successful  ?  To  be  unre- 
strained and  free  ?  And  how  could  he  have  been 
Socrates,  if  he  had  lamented  thus  ?  How  could  he 
after  that  have  written  Paeans  in  a  prison  ? 

In  short,  then,  remember  this,  that  so  far  as  you 
prize  anything  external  to  your  own  will,  you  impair 
that  will.  And  not  only  power  is  external  to  it,  but 
the  being  out  of  power  too ;  not  only  business,  but 
leisure  too.  "  Then  must  I  live  in  this  tumult  now  ?  " 
What  do  you  call  a  tumult  ?  "A  multitude  of  peo- 
ple." And  where  is  the  hardship  ?  Suppose  it  to  be 
the  Olympic  Games.  Think  it  a  public  assembly. 
There,  too,  some  bawl  out  one  thing,  some  an- 
other ;  some  push  the  rest.  The  baths  are  crowded. 
Yet  who  of  us  is  not  pleased  with  these  assemblies, 
and  does  not  grieve  to  leave  t'um?  Do  not  be  hard 
to  please,  and  squeamish  at  what  happens.  "  Vinegar 
is  disagreeable,  for  it  is  sour.    Honey  is  disagreeable, 


324  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETU8. 

for  it  disorders  my  constitution.  I  do  not  like  vege- 
tables." "  So  I  do  not  like  retirement,  it  is  a  desert ; 
I  do  not  like  a  crowd,  it  is  a  tumult. "  Why,  if  things 
are  so  disposed,  that  you  are  to  live  alone  or  with 
few,  call  this  condition  repose,  and  make  use  of  it  as 
you  ought.  Talk  with  yourself,  judge  of  the  appear- 
ances presented  to  your  mind;  train  your  mental 
habits  to  accuracy.  But  if  you  happen  on  a  crowd, 
call  it  one  of  the  public  games,  a  grand  assembly,  a 
festival.  Endeavor  to  share  in  the  festival  with  the 
rest  of  the  world.  For  what  sight  is  more  pleasant 
to  a  lover  of  mankind  than  a  great  number  of  men  ? 
We  see  companies  of  oxen  or  horses  with  pleasure. 
We  are  highly  delighted  to  see  a  great  many  ships. 
Who  is  sorry  to  see  a  great  many  men  ?  "  But  they 
stun  me  with  their  noise."  Then  your  hearing  is 
hindered  ;  and  what  is  that  to  you  ?  Is  your  faculty 
of  making  a  right  use  of  the  appearances  of  things 
hindered  too  ?  Or  who  can  restrain  you  from  using 
your  desire  and  aversion,  your  powers  of  pursuit  and 
avoidance,  conformably  to  nature  ?  What  tumult  is 
sufficient  for  this  ? 

Do  but  remember  the  general  rules.  What  is  mine? 
What  not  mine  ?  What  is  allotted  me  ?  What  is  it 
the  will  of  God  that  I  should  do  now  ?  What  is  not 
his  will  ?  A  little  while  ago  it  was  His  will  that  you 
should  be  at  leisure,  should  talk  with  yourself,  write 
about  these  things,  read,  hear,  prepare  yourself.  You 
have  had  sufficient  time  for  this.  At  present,  He  says 
to  you,  "  Come  now  to  the  combat.  Show  us  what 
you  have  learned;  how  you  have  wrestled."  How 
long  would  you  exercise  by  yourself?  It  is  now  the 
time  to  show  whether  you  are  of  the  number  of  those 
champions  who  merit  victory,  or  of  those  who  go 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  325 

about  the  world  conquered  in  all  the  circle  of  games. 
Why,  then,  are  you  out  of  humor  ?  There  is  no  com- 
bat without  a  tumult.  There  must  be  many  prepar- 
atory exercises,  many  acclamations,  many  masters, 
many  spectators.  "  But  I  would  live  in  quiet.' ' 
Why,  then,  lament  and  groan  as  you  deserve.  For 
what  greater  punishment  is  there  to  those  who  are 
uninstructed  and  disobedient  to  the  orders  of  God, 
than  to  grieve,  to  mourn,  to  envy  ;  in  short,  to  be  dis- 
appointed and  unhappy?  Are  you  not  willing  to 
deliver  yourself  from  all  this  ?  "  And  how  shall  I 
deliver  myself?"  Have  you  not  heard  that  you 
must  absolutely  control  desire,  and  apply  aversion  to: 
such  things  only  as  are  controllable  by  will  ?  That 
you  must  consent  to  resign  all,  body,  possessions, 
fame,  books,. tumults,  power,  exemption  from  power? 
For  to  whichsoever  your  disposition  is,  you  are  a 
slave  ;  you  are  under  subjection ;  you  are  made  lia- 
ble to  restraint,  to  compulsion ;  you  are  altogether 
the  property  of  others.  But  have  that  maxim  of. 
Cleanthes  always  ready, 

"  Conduct  me,  Zeus  ;  and  thou,  O  destiny." 

Is  it  your  will  that  I  should  go  to  Rome  ?  Conduct* 
me  to  Rome.  To  Gyaros  ?  —  To  Gyaros.  To  Ath- 
ens ?  —  To  Athens.  To  prison  ?  —  To  prison.  If  you 
once  say,  "  When  may  I  go  to  Athens  ?  "  you  are 
undone.  This  desire,  if  it  be  unaccomplished,  must 
necessarily  render  you  disappointed  ;  and,  if  fulfilled, 
vain  respecting  what  ought  not  to  elate  you  ;  — if,  on 
the  contrary,  you  are  hindered,  then  you  are  wretched 
through  incurring  what  you  do  not  like.  Therefore 
give  up  all  these  things. 

"  Athens  is  a  fine  place."     But  it  is  a  much  finer 


326  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

thing  to  be  happy,  serene,  tranquil,  not  to  have  your 
affairs  dependent  on  others.  "  Rome  is  full  of  tu- 
mults and  visits."  But  prosperity  is  worth  all  diffi- 
culties. If,  then,  it  be  a  proper  time  for  these,  why 
do  not  you  withdraw  your  aversion  from  them  ? 
What  necessity  is  there  for  you  to  be  made  to  carry 
your  burden,  by  being  cudgelled  like  an  ass  ?  Other- 
wise, consider  that  you  must  always  be  a  slave  to  him 
who  has  the  power  to  procure  your  discharge,  —  to 
every  one  who  has  the  power  of  hindering  you ;  — 
and  must  worship  him  like  your  evil  genius. 

The  only  way  to  real  prosperity  (let  this  rule  be  at 
hand  morning,  noon,  and  night)  is  a  resignation  of 
things  uncontrollable  by  will ;  to  esteem  nothing  as 
property ;  to  deliver  up  all  things  to  our  tutelar  ge- 
nius and  to  fortune  ;  to  leave  the  control  of  them  to 
those  whom  Zeus  hath  made  such;  to  be  ourselves 
devoted  to  that  only  which  is  really  ours ;  to  that 
which  is  incapable  of  restraint ;  and  whatever  we 
read,  or  write,  or  hear,  to  refer  all  to  this. 

Therefore  I  cannot  call  any  one  industrious,  if  I 
hear  only  that  he  reads  or  writes ;  nor  do  I  call  him 
so  even  if  he  adds  the  whole  night  to  the  day,  unless 
I  know  to  what  he  applies  it.  For  not  even  you 
would  call  him  industrious  who  sits  up  for  the  sake 
of  a  girl ;  nor,  therefore,  in  the  other  case  do  I.  But 
if  he  does  it  for  fame,  I  call  him  ambitious ;  if  for 
money,  avaricious ;  if  from  the  desire  of  learning, 
bookish ;  but  not  industrious.  But  if  he  applies  his 
labor  to  his  ruling  faculty,  in  order  to  treat  and  reg- 
ulate it  conformably  to  nature,  then  only  I  call  him 
industrious.  Never  praise  or  blame  any  person  on 
account  of  outward  actions  that  are  common  to  all ; 
but  only  on  account  of  principles.     These  are  the 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  327 

peculiar  property  of  each  individual,  and  the  things 
which  make  actions  good   or  bad. 

Mindful  of  this,  enjoy  the  present  and  accept  all 
things  in  their  season.  If  you  meet  in  action  any  of 
those  things  which  you  have  made  a  subject  of  study, 
rejoice  in  them.  If  you  have  laid  aside  ill-nature 
and  reviling ;  if  you  have  lessened  your  harshness, 
indecent  language,  inconsiderateness,  effeminacy ;  if 
you  are  not  moved  by  the  same  things  as  formerly, 
or  if  not  in  the  same  manner  as  formerly ;  —  you 
may  keep  a  perpetual  festival,  to-day  for  success  in 
one  affair,  to-morrow  for  another.  How  much  better 
a  reason  for  sacrifice  is  this  than  obtaining  a  consul- 
ship or  a  government  ?  These  things  you  have  from 
yourself  and  from  the  gods.  Remember  this,  who  it 
is  that  gave  them,  and  to  whom  and  for  what  purpose. 
Habituated  once  to  these  reasonings,  can  you  still 
think  that  it  makes  any  difference  what  place  God 
allots  you?  Are  not  the  gods  everywhere  at  the 
same  distance  ?  Do  not  they  everywhere  see  equally 
what  is  doing  ? 


CHAPTER    V. 

CONCERNING   THE    QUARRELSOME   AND   FEROCIOUS. 

A  WISE  and  good  person  neither  quarrels  with 
any  one  himself,  nor,  as  far  as  possible,  suffers 
another  to  do  so.  The  life  of  Socrates  affords  us  an 
example  of  this  too,  as  well  as  of  other  things ;  since 
he  not  only  everywhere  avoided  quarrelling  himself, 
but  did  not  even  suffer  others  to  quarrel.  See  in 
Xenophon's  Banquet  how  many  quarrels  he  ended ; 


328  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

how,  again,  he  bore  with  Thrasymachus,  with  Polus, 
with  Callicles  ;  how  with  his  wife,  how  with  his  son, 
who  attempted  to  confute  him,  and  cavilled  at  him. 
For  he  well  remembered  that  no  one  is  master  of  the 
ruling  faculty  of  another ;  and  therefore  he  desired 
nothing  but  what  was  his  own.  "  And  what  is  that  ?  " 
Not  that  any  particular  person  should  be  dealt  with 
conformably  to  nature ;  for  that  belongs  to  others  ; 
but  that  while  they  act  in  their  own  way,  as  they 
please,  he  should  nevertheless  live  conformably  to 
nature,  only  doing  what  belongs  to  himself,  in  order 
to  make  them  live  conformably  to  nature  also.  For 
this  is  the  point  that  a  wise  and  good  person  has  in 
view.  To  have  the  command  of  an  army  ?  No ;  but 
if  it  be  allotted  him,  to  properly  apply  his  own  powers 
in  that  sphere.  To  marry  ?  No  ;  but  if  marriage 
be  allotted  him,  to  act  in  this  sphere  also,  according 
to  the  laws  of  nature.  But  if  he  expects  perfection 
in  his  wife  or  his  child,  then  he  asks  to  have  that  for 
his  own  which  really  belongs  to  others.  And  wisdom 
consists  in  this  very  point,  to  learn  what  things  are 
our  own  and  what  belong  to  others. 

What  room  is  there  then  for  quarrelling,  to  a  per- 
son thus  disposed  ?  For  does  he  wonder  at  anything 
that  happens  ?  Does  it  appear  strange  to  him  ?  Does 
he  not  prepare  for  worse  and  more  grievous  injuries 
from  bad  people  than  actually  happen  to  him  ?  Does 
he  not  reckon  it  so  much  gained  if  they  come  short 
of  the  last  extremities  ?  Such  a  one  has  reviled  you. 
You  are  much  obliged  to  him  that  he  has  not  struck 
you.  But  he  has  struck  you  too.  You  are  much 
obliged  to  him  that  he  has  not  wounded  you  too. 
But  he  has  wounded  you  too.  You  are  much  obliged 
to  him  that  he  has  not  killed  you.     For  when  did  he 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  329 

ever  learn,  or  from  whom,  that  he  is  a  gentle,  that  he 
is  a  social  animal ;  that  the  very  injury  itself  is  a 
great  mischief  to  him  who  inflicts  it  ?  As,  then,  he 
has  not  learned  these  things,  nor  believes  them,  why 
should  he  not  follow  what  appears  to  be  for  his  inter- 
est ?  Your  neighbor  has  thrown  stones.  What  then  ? 
Is  it  any  fault  of  yours  ?  But  your  goods  are  broken. 
What  then  ?  Are  you  a  piece  of  furniture  ?  No ; 
but  your  essence  consists  in  the  faculty  of  will. 
What  behavior  then  is  assigned  you  in  return  ?  If 
you  consider  yourself  as  a  wolf,  —  then,  to  bite  again, 
to  throw  more  stones.  But  if  you  ask  the  question 
as  a  man,  then  examine  your  treasure ;  see  what  fac- 
ulties you  have  brought  into  the  world  with  you. 
Are  they  fitted  for  ferocity  ?  For  revenge  ?  When 
is  a  horse  miserable  ?  When  he  is  deprived  of  his 
natural  faculties.  Not  when  he  cannot  crow,  but 
when  he  cannot  run.  And  a  dog  ?  Not  when  he 
cannot  fly,  but  when  he  cannot  hunt.  Is  not  a  man, 
then,  also  unhappy  in  the  same  manner  ?  Not  he 
who  cannot  strangle  lions  or  perform  athletic  feats, 
(for  he  has  received  no  faculties  for  this  purpose  from 
nature)  ;  but  who  has  lost  his  rectitude  of  mind,  his 
fidelity.  This  is  he  who  ought  to  receive  public  con- 
dolence for  the  misfortunes  into  which  he  is  fallen ; 
not,  by  Heaven,  either  he  who  has  the  misfortune  to 
be  born  or  to  die ;  but  he  whom  it  has  befallen  while 
he  lives  to  lose  what  is  properly  his  own.  Not  his 
paternal  possessions,  his  paltry  estate  or  his  house, 
his  lodging  or  his  slaves,  for  none  of  these  are  a  man's 
own ;  but  all  these  belong  to  others,  are  servile,  de- 
pendent, and  very  variously  assigned  by  the  disposers 
of  them.  But  his  personal  qualifications  as  a  man,  the 
impressions  which  he  brought  into  the  world  stamped 


330  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

upon  his  mind  ;  such  as  we  look  for  in  money,  accept- 
ing or  rejecting  it  accordingly.  "  What  impression 
has  this  piece  of  money?"  —  "Trajan's."  —  "Give 
it  me."  —  "  Nero's."  *  Throw  it  away.  It  is  false  ; 
it  is  good  for  nothing.  So  in  the  other  case.  "  What 
stamp  have  his  principles  ?  "  —  "  Gentleness,  social  af- 
fection, patience,  good-nature."  Bring  them  hither. 
I  receive  them.  I  make  such  a  man  a  citizen ;  I  re- 
ceive him  for  a  neighbor,  a  fellow-traveller.  Only 
see  that  he  have  not  the  Neronian  stamp.  Is  he  pas- 
sionate ?  Is  he  resentful  ?  Is  he  querulous  ?  Would 
he,  if  he  took  the  fancy,  break  the  heads  of  those  who 
fell  in  his  way  ?  Why  then  do  you  call  him  a  man  ? 
For  is  everything  determined  by  a  mere  outward 
form  ?  Then  say,  just  as  well,  that  a  piece  of  wax 
is  an  apple,  or  that  it  has  the  smell  and  taste,  too. 
But  the  external  figure  is  not  enough ;  nor,  conse- 
quently, is  it  sufficient  to  constitute  a  man,  that  he 
has  a  nose  and  eyes,  if  he  have  not  the  proper  princi- 
ples of  a  man.  Such  a  one  does  not  understand  rea- 
son, or  apprehend  when  he  is  confuted.  He  is  like 
an  ass.  Another  is  dead  to  the  sense  of  shame.  He 
is  a  worthless  creature  ;  anything  rather  than  a  man. 
Another  seeks  whom  he  may  kick  or  bite :  so  that  he 
is  neither  sheep  nor  ass.  But  what  then  ?  He  is  a 
wild  beast. 

"  Well ;  but  would  you  have  me  despised,  then  ?  " 
By  whom  ?  By  those  who  know  you  ?  And  how  can 
they  despise  you  who  know  you  to  be  gentle  and  mod- 
est ?  But,  perhaps,  by  those  who  do  not  know  you  ? 
And  what  is  that  to  you  ?  For  no  other  artist  troubles 
himself  about  those  ignorant  of  art.     "  But  people 

*  Nero  being  declared  an  enemy  by  the  Senate,  his  coin  was,  in 
consequence  of  this,  prohibited  and  destroyed.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  331 

will  be  much  readier  to  attack  me."  Why  do  you 
say  me?  Can  any  one  hurt  your  will,  or  restrain 
you  from  treating,  conformably  to  nature,  the  phe- 
nomena of  existence  ?  Why,  then,  are  you  disturbed 
and  desirous  to  make  yourself  appear  formidable  ? 
Why  do  you  not  make  public  proclamation  that  you 
are  at  peace  with  all  mankind,  however  they  may 
act ;  and  that  you  chiefly  laugh  at  those  who  suppose 
they  can  hurt  you  ?  "  These  wretches  neither  know 
who  I  am,  nor  in  what  consist  my  good  and  evil ; 
nor  how  little  they  can  touch  what  is  really  mine.', 
Thus  the  inhabitants  of  a  fortified  city  laugh  at  the 
besiegers.  "  What  trouble,  now,  are  these  people 
giving  themselves  for  nothing  ?  Our  wall  is  secure  ; 
we  have  provisions  for  a  very  long  time,  and  every 
other  preparation."  These  are  what  render  a  city 
fortified  and  impregnable ;  but  nothing  but  its  prin- 
ciples render  the  human  soul  so.  For  what  wall  is 
so  strong,  what  body  so  impenetrable,  what  possession 
so  unalienable,  what  dignity  so  secured  against  strat- 
agems ?  All  things  else,  everywhere  else,  are  mortal, 
easily  reduced  ;  and  whoever  in  any  degree  fixes  his 
mind  upon  them,  must  necessarily  be  subject  to  per- 
turbation, despair,  terrors,  lamentations,  disappointed 
desires,  and  unavailing  aversions. 

And  will  we  not  fortify,  then,  the  only  citadel  that 
is  granted  us ;  and,  withdrawing  ourselves  from  what 
is  mortal  and  servile,  diligently  improve  what  is  im- 
mortal and  by  nature  free  ?  Do  we  not  remember 
that  no  one  either  hurts  or  benefits  another ;  but 
only  the  principles  which  we  hold  concerning  every- 
thing ?  It  is  this  that  hurts  us ;  this  that  overturns 
us.  Here  is  the  fight,  the  sedition,  the  war.  It  was 
nothing  else  that  made  Eteocles  and  Polynices  ene- 


332  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

mies,  but  their  principles  concerning  empire,  and  their 
principles  concerning  exile  ;  that  the  one  seemed  the 
extremest  evil,  the  other,  the  greatest  good.  Now 
the  very  nature  of  every  one  is  to  pursue  good,  to 
avoid  evil ;  to  esteem  him  as  an  enemy  and  betrayer 
who  deprives  us  of  the  one,  and  involves  us  in  the 
other,  though  he  be  a  brother,  or  a  son,  or  father. 
For  nothing  is  more  nearly  related  to  us  than  good. 
So  that  if  good  and  evil  consist  in  externals,  there  is 
no  affection  between  father  and  son,  brother  and 
brother;  but  all  i6  everywhere  full  of  enemies,  be- 
trayers, sycophants.  But  if  a  right  choice  be  the 
only  good,  and  a  wrong  one  the  only  evil,  what 
further  room  is  there  for  quarrelling,  for  reviling  ? 
About  what  can  it  be  ?  About  what  is  nothing  to  us. 
Against  whom  ?  Against  the  ignorant,  against  the 
unhappy,  against  those  who  are  deceived  in  the  most 
important  respects. 

Mindful  of  this,  Socrates  lived  in  his  own  house, 
patiently  bearing  a  furious  wife,  a  senseless  son.  For 
what  were  the  effects  of  her  fury  ?  The  throwing  as 
much  water  as  she  pleased  on  his  head,  the  tramp- 
ling *  a  cake  under  her  feet.  "  And  what  is  this  to 
me,  if  I  think  such  things  nothing  to  me  ?  This 
very  point  is  my  business  ;  and  neither  a  tyrant,  nor 
a  master,  shall  restrain  my  will;  nor  multitudes, 
though  I  am  a  single  person  ;  nor  one  ever  so  strong, 
though  I  am  ever  so  weak.  For  this  is  given  by  God 
to  every  one,  free  from  restraint.' ' 

These  principles  make  friendship  in  families,  con- 

*  Alcibiades  sent  a  fine  great  cake  as  a  present  to  Socrates ; 
which  so  provoked  the  jealousy  of  the  meek  Xantippe,  that  she  threw 
it  down,  and  stamped  upon  it.  Socrates  only  laughed,  and  said, 
"  Now  you  will  have  no  share  in  it  yourself."  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  333 

cord  in  cities,  peace  in  nations.  They  make  a  person 
grateful  to  God,  everywhere  courageous,  as  dealing 
with  things  merely  foreign  and  of  minor  importance. 
But  we,  alas!  are  able  indeed  to  write  and  read 
these  things,  and  to  praise  them  when  they  are  read ; 
but  very  far  from  being  convinced  by  them.  In  that 
case,  what  is  said  of  the  Lacedemonians, 

"  Lions  at  home,  foxes  at  Ephesus," 

may  be  applied  to  us,  too ;  lions  in  the  school,  but 
foxes  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

CONCERNING   THOSE   WHO   ARE   ANNOYED   AT   BEING- 
PITIED. 

IT  vexes  me,  say  you,  to  be  pitied.  Is  this  your 
affair,  then,  or  theirs  who  pity  you  ?  And  fur- 
ther, how  is  it  in  your  power  to  prevent  it  ?  "  It  is, 
if  I  show  them  that  I  do  not  need  pity."  But  are 
you  now  in  such  a  condition  as  not  to  need  pity,  or 
are  you  not  ?  "  I  think  I  am.  But  these  people  do 
not  pity  me  for  what,  if  anything,  would  deserve  pity, 
my  faults ;  but  for  poverty,  and  want  of  power,  and 
sicknesses,  and  deaths,  and  other  things  of  that  kind." 
Are  you,  then,  prepared  to  convince  the  world  that 
none  of  these  things  is  in  reality  an  evil ;  but  that  it 
is  possible  for  a  person  to  be  happy,  even  when  he  is 
poor,  and  without  honors  and  power?  Or  are  you 
prepared  to  put  on  the  appearance  of  being  rich  and 
powerful  ?  The  last  of  these  is  the  part  of  an  arro- 
gant, silly,  worthless  fellow.  Observe,  too,  by  what 
means  this  fiction  must  be  carried  on.     You  must 


334  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

hire  some  poor  slaves,  and  get  possessed  of  a  few  lit- 
tle pieces  of  plate,  and  often  show  them  in  public ; 
and  though  they  are  the  same,  endeavor  to  conceal 
that  they  are  the  same ;  you  must  have  gay  clothes 
and  other  finery,  and  make  a  show  of  being  honored 
by  your  great  people;  and  endeavor  to  sup  with 
them,  or  be  thought  to  sup  with  them  ;  and  use  some 
vile  arts  with  your  person,  to  make  it  appear  hand- 
somer and  genteeler  than  it  really  is.  All  this  you 
must  contrive,  if  you  would  take  the  second  way  not 
to  be  pitied.  And  the  first  is  impracticable  as  well  as 
tedious,  to  undertake  the  very  thing  that  Zeus  him- 
self could  not  do ;  to  convince  all  mankind  what 
things  are  really  good  and  evil.  Is  this  granted  you  ? 
The  only  thing  granted  you  is  to  convince  yourself; 
and  you  have  not  yet  done  that;  and  yet  do  you 
undertake  to  convince  others  ?  Why,  who  has  lived 
so  long  with  you  as  you  have  with  yourself?  Who 
is  so  likely  to  have  faith  in  you,  in  order  to  be  con- 
vinced by  you,  as  yourself?  Who  is  more  truly  a 
well-wisher  or  a  friend  to  you  than  yourself  ?  How 
is  it,  then,  that  you  have  not  yet  convinced  yourself? 
Should  you  not  now  revolve  these  things?  What 
you  were  studying  was  this ;  to  learn  to  be  exempt 
from  grief,  perturbation,  and  meanness,  and  to  be 
free.  Have  you  not  heard,  then,  that  the  only  way 
that  leads  to  this  is,  to  give  up  what  is  beyond  the 
control  of  will ;  to  withdraw  from  it,  and  confess  that 
it  belongs  to  others  ?  To  what  order  of  things  be- 
longs another's  opinion  about  you  ?  "  Things  un- 
controllable by  will."  Is  it  nothing  then  to  you  ? 
"  Nothing."  While  you  are  still  piqued  and  dis- 
turbed about  it,  then,  do  you  consider  that  you  are 
convinced  concerning  good  and  evil  ? 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  335 

Letting  others  alone,  then,  why  will  you  not  be 
your  own  scholar  and  teacher  ?  Let  others  look  to 
it,  whether  it  be  for  their  advantage  to  think  and  act 
contrary  to  nature  ;  but  no  one  is  nearer  to  me  than 
myself.  What  means  this  ?  I  have  heard  the  rea- 
sonings of  philosophers,  and  assented  to  them ;  yet, 
in  fact,  I  am  not  the  more  relieved.  Am  I  so  stupid  ? 
And  yet,  in  other  things  to  which  I  had  an  inclina- 
tion, I  was  not  found  very  stupid ;  but  I  quickly 
learned  grammar  and  the  exercises  of  the  palaestra, 
and  geometry,  and  the  solution  of  syllogisms.  Has 
not  reason,  then,  convinced  me  ?  And  yet  there  is 
no  one  of  the  other  things  that  I  so  much  approved 
or  liked  from  the  very  first.  And  now  I  read  con- 
cerning these  subjects,  I  hear  discourses  upon  them, 
I  write  about  them,  and  I  have  not  yet  found  any 
principle  more  sure  than  this.  What,  then,  do  I 
need?  Is  not  this  the  difficulty,  that  the  contrary 
principles  are  not  removed  out  of  my  mind  ?  Is  it 
not  that  I  have  not  strengthened  these  opinions  by 
exercise,  nor  practised  them  in  action  ?  but,  like 
arms  thrown  aside,  they  are  grown  rusty,  and  do  not 
suit  me  ?  Yet  neither  in  the  palaestra,  nor  writing, 
nor  reading,  nor  solving  syllogisms,  am  I  contented 
with  merely  learning ;  but  I  apply  in  every  way  the 
forms  of  arguments  which  are  presented  to  me,  and  I 
invent  others ;  and  the  same  of  convertible  proposi- 
tions. But  the  necessary  principles  by  which  I  might 
become  exempted  from  fear,  grief,  and  passion,  and 
be  unrestrained  and  free,  I  do  not  exercise,  nor  be- 
stow on  them  the  proper  care.  And,  then,  I  trouble 
myself  what  others  will  say  of  me ;  whether  I  shall 
appear  to  them  worthy  of  regard ;  whether  I  shall 
appear  happy.     Will  you  not  see,  foolish  man,  what 


336  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

you  can  say  of  yourself?  What  sort  of  person  you 
appear  to  yourself  in  your  opinions,  in  your  desires, 
in  your  aversions,  in  your  pursuits,  in  your  prepara- 
tion, in  your  intention,  in  the  other  proper  works  of 
a  man  ?  But  instead  of  that,  do  you  trouble  your- 
self whether  others  pity  you  ?  "  Very  true.  But  I 
am  pitied  without  reason."  Then  are  you  not  pained 
by  this  ?  And  is  not  he  who  is  in  pain  to  be  pitied  ? 
"  Yes."  How,  then,  are  you  pitied  without  reason  ? 
For  you  render  yourself  worthy  of  pity  by  what  you 
suffer  upon  being  pitied. 

What  says  Antisthenes,  then?  Have  you  never 
heard  ?  "  It  is  kingly,  0  Cyrus,  to  do  well  and  to  be 
ill  spoken  of."  My  head  is  well,  and  all  around  me 
think  it  aches.  What  is  that  to  me  ?  I  am  free 
from  a  fever ;  and  they  compassionate  me  as  if  I  had 
one.  "  Poor  soul,  what  a  long  while  have  you  had 
this  fever !  "  I  say,  too,  with  a  dismal  countenance, 
Ay,  indeed,  it  is  now  a  long  time  that  I  have  been 
ill.  "  What  can  be  the  consequence,  then  ?  "  What 
pleases  God.  And  at  the  same  time  I  secretly  laugh 
at  those  who  pity  me.  What  forbids,  then,  but  that 
the  same  may  be  done  in  the  other  case  ?  I  am  poor, 
but  I  have  right  principles  concerning  poverty.  What 
is  it  to  me,  then,  if  people  pity  me  for  my  poverty  ?  I 
am  not  in  power  and  others  are ;  but  I  have  such 
opinions  as  I  ought  to  have  concerning  power  and 
the  want  of  power.  Let  them  see  to  it  who  pity  me. 
I  am  neither  hungry,  nor  thirsty,  nor  cold.  But  be- 
cause they  are  hungry  and  thirsty,  they  suppose  me 
to  be  so  too.  What  can  I  do  for  them  ?  Am  I  to  go 
about  making  proclamation,  and  saying,  Do  not  de- 
ceive yourselves,  good  people,  I  am  very  well ;  I  care 
for  neither  poverty,  nor  want  of  power,  nor  anything 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  337 

else  but  right  principles  ?     These  I  possess  unre- 
strained, and  care  for  nothing  further. 

But  what  trifling  is  this  ?  How  have  I  right  prin- 
ciples when  I  am  not  contented  to  be  what  I  am ; 
but  am  in  agony,  how  I  shall  appear  ?  "  But  others 
will  get  more,  and  be  preferred  to  me."  Well,  what 
is  more  reasonable,  than  that  they  who  take  pains  for 
anything  should  get  most  in  that  particular  direction, 
in  which  they  take  pains  ?  They  have  taken  pains 
for  power ;  you,  for  right  principles :  they,  for  riches ; 
you,  for  a  proper  use  of  the  phenomena  of  existence. 
See  whether  they  have  the  advantage  of  you  in  that 
for  which  you  have  taken  pains,  and  which  they  neg- 
lect; if  they  judge  better  concerning  the  natural 
bounds  and  limits  of  things ;  if  their  desires  are  less 
often  disappointed  than  yours,  their  aversions  less 
often  incurred  ;  if  they  aim  better  in  their  intentions, 
in  their  purposes,  in  their  pursuits  ;  if  they  preserve 
a  becoming  behavior  as  men,  as  sons,  as  parents,  and 
so  on  with  the  other  relations  of  life.  But  if  they 
are  in  power,  and  you  not,  why  will  you  not  speak 
the  truth  to  yourself;  that  you  do  nothing  for  the 
sake  of  power,  but  that  they  do  everything  ?  It  were 
very  reasonable  that  he  who  carefully  seeks  anything, 
should  be  less  successful  than  he  who  neglects  it! 
"  No  ;  but  since  I  take  care  to  have  right  principles, 
it  is  more  reasonable  that  I  should  excel."  Yes,  in 
respect  to  what  you  take  pains  about,  your  principles. 
But  give  up  to  others  the  things  in  which  they  have 
taken  more  pains  than  you.  Else  it  is  just  as  if,  be- 
cause you  have  right  principles,  you  should  expect  to 
aim  an  arrow  better  than  an  archer,  or  to  forge  better 
than  a  smith.  Therefore  cease  to  take  pains  about 
principles,  and  apply  yourself  to  those  things  which 

22 


338  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

you  wish  to  possess,  and  then  begin  crying,  if  you  do 
not  succeed ;  for  you  deserve  to  cry.  But  now  you 
claim  that  you  are  engaged  and  absorbed  in  other 
things  ;  and  they  say  well  that  no  man  can  be  of  two 
trades.  One  man,  as  soon  as  he  rises  and  goes  out, 
seeks  to  whom  he  may  pay  his  compliments,  whom 
he  may  natter,  to  whom  he  may  send  a  present,  how 
he  may  please  the  favorite  ;  how,  by  doing  mischief 
to  one,  he  may  oblige  another.  Whenever  he  prays, 
he  prays  for  things  like  these ;  whenever  he  sacri- 
fices, he  sacrifices  for  things  like  these.  To  these  he 
transfers  the  Pythagorean  precept : 

"  Let  not  the  stealing  god  of  Sleep  surprise." 

*  Where  have  I  failed  in  point  of  flattery  ?  What 
have  I  done  f  Anything  like  a  free,  brave-spirited 
man  ?  If  he  should  find  anything  of  this  sort,  he  re- 
bukes and  accuses  himself.  "  What  business  had  you 
to  say  that  ?  For  could  you  not  have  lied  ?  Even 
the  philosophers  say  there  is  no  objection  against  tell- 
ing a  lie." 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you  have  in  reality  been 
careful  about  nothing  else  but  to  make  a  right  use 
of  the  phenomena  of  existence  ;  then,  as  soon  as  you 
are  up  in  the  morning,  consider  what  you  need  in 
order  to  be  free  from  passion  ?  What,  to  enjoy  tran- 
quillity ?  "  In  what  do  I  consist  ?  Merely  in  body, 
in  estate,  in  reputation  ?  None  of  these.  What, 
then  ?  I  am  a  reasonable  creature.  What,  then,  is 
required  of  me?"  Meditate  upon  your  actions. 
Where  have  I  failed  in  any  requisite  for  prosperity  ? 
What  have  I  done,  either  unfriendly  or  unsocial? 

•  See  the  Pythagorean  verses  (quoted  in  B.  III.  c.  10)  of  which 
these  questions  are  a  parody.  —  C. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  339 

What  have  I  omitted  that  was  necessary  in  these 
points  ? 

Since  there  is  so  much  difference,  then,  in  your 
desires,  your  actions,  your  wishes,  would  you  yet 
have  an  equal  share  with  others  in  those  things 
about  which  you  have  not  taken  pains,  and  they 
have  ?  And  do  you  wonder,  after  all,  and  are  you 
out  of  humor  if  they  pity  you  ?  But  they  are  not 
out  of  humor,  if  you  pity  them.  Why?  Because 
they  are  convinced  that  they  are  in  possession  of  their 
proper  good ;  but  you  are  not  convinced  that  you  are. 
Hence  you  are  not  contented  with  your  own  condi- 
tion, but  desire  theirs  ;  whereas  they  are  contented 
with  theirs,  and  do  not  desire  yours.  For  if  you 
were  really  convinced  that  it  is  you  who  are  in  pos- 
session of  what  is  good,  and  that  they  are  mistaken, 
you  would  not  so  much  as  think  what  they  say  about 
you. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

OF   FEARLESSNESS. 

WHAT  makes  a  tyrant  formidable  ?  His  guards, 
say  you,  and  their  swords ;  they  who  protect 
his  bedchamber;  and  they  who  keep  out  intruders. 
Why,  then,  if  you  bring  a  child  to  him  amidst  these 
guards,  is  it  not  afraid  ?  Is  it  because  the  child 
does  not  know  what  they  mean?  Suppose,  then, 
that  any  one  knows  what  is  meant  by  guards,  and 
that  they  are  armed  with  swords ;  and  for  that  very 
reason  comes  in  the  tyrant's  way,  being  desirous,  on 
account  of  some  misfortune,  to  die,  and  seeking  to 
die  easily  by  the  hand  of  another.     Does  such  a  man 


340  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

fear  the  guards  ?  No  ;  for  he  desires  the  very  thing 
that  renders  them  formidable.  Well,  then ;  if  any 
one  being  without  an  absolute  desire  to  live  or  die, 
but  indifferent  to  it,  comes  in  the  way  of  a  tyrant, 
what  prevents  his  approaching  him  without  fear? 
Nothing.  If,  then,  another  should  think  concerning 
his  estate,  or  wife,  or  children,  as  this  man  thinks 
concerning  his  body ;  and,  in  short,  from  some  mad- 
ness or  folly  should  be  of  such  a  disposition  as  not  to 
care  whether  he  has  them  or  not;  but  just  as  chil- 
dren, playing  with  shells,  are  busied  with  the  play, 
but  not  with  the  shells,  so  he  should  pay  no  regard 
to  these  affairs,  except  to  carry  on  the  play  with 
them,  what  tyrant,  wliat  guards  or  swords  are  any 
longer  formidable  to  such  a  man  ? 

And  is  it  possible  that  any  one  should  be  thus  dis- 
posed towards  these  things  from  madness ;  and  the 
Galileans  from  mere  habit;  yet  that  no  one  should 
be  able  to  learn,  from  reason  and  demonstration,  that 
God  made  all  things  in  the  world,  and  made  the 
whole  world  itself  unrestrained  and  perfect ;  and  all 
its  parts  for  the  use  of  the  whole  ?  All  other  crea- 
tures are  indeed  excluded  from  a  power  of  compre- 
hending the  administration  of  the  world ;  but  a  rea- 
sonable being  has  abilities  for  the  consideration  of 
all  these  things :  both  that  itself  is  a  part,  and  what 
part ;  and  that  it  is  fit  the  parts  should  submit  to  the 
whole.  Besides,  being  by  nature  constituted  noble, 
magnanimous,  and  free,  it  sees  that  of  the  things 
which  relate  to  it  some  are  unrestrained  and  in  its 
own  power,  some  restrained  and  in  the  power  of 
others:  the  unrestrained,  such  as  depend  on  will; 
the  restrained,  such  as  do  not  depend  on  it.  And  for 
this  reason,  if  it  esteems  its  good  and  its  interest  to 


THE   DISCOURSES   OP   EPICTETUS.  341 

consist  in  things  unrestrained  and  in  its  own  power, 
it  will  be  free,  prosperous,  happy,  safe,  magnanimous, 
pious,  thankful  to  God  for  everything,  never  find- 
ing fault  with  anything,  never  censuring  anything 
that  is  brought  about  by  him.  But  if  it  esteems  its 
good  and  its  interest  to  consist  in  externals,  and 
things  uncontrollable  by  will,  it  must  necessarily  be 
restrained,  be  hindered,  be  enslaved  to  those  who 
have  the  power  over  those  things  which  it  admires 
and  fears ;  it  must  necessarily  be  impious,  as  suppos- 
ing itself  injured  by  God,  and  unjust,  as  claiming 
more  than  its  share ;  it  must  necessarily,  too,  be  ab- 
ject and  base. 

Why  may  not  he  who  discerns  these  things  live 
with  an  easy  and  light  heart,  quietly  awaiting  what- 
ever may  happen,  and  bearing  contentedly  what  has 
happened  ?  Shall  it  be  poverty  ?  Bring  it ;  and  you 
shall  see  what  poverty  is  when  it  is  met  well.  Would 
you  have  power  ?  Bring  toils  too  along  with  it.  Ban- 
ishment? Wherever  I  go,  it  will  be  well  with  me 
there ;  for  it  was  well  with  me  here,  not  on  account 
of  the  place,  but  of  the  principles  which  I  shall  carry 
away  with  me  ;  for  no  one  can  deprive  me  of  these  ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  alone  are  my  property,  and 
cannot  be  taken  away ;  and  their  possession  suffices 
me  wherever  I  am,  or  whatever  I  do. 

"  But  it  is  now  time  to  die."  What  is  that  you  call 
dying  ?  Do  not  talk  of  the  thing  in  a  tragedy  strain ; 
but  state  the  thing  as  it  is,  that  it  is  time  for  your 
material  part  to  revert  whence  it  came.  And  where 
is  the  terror  of  this  ?  What  part  of  the  world  is  go- 
ing to  be  lost  ?  What  is  going  to  happen  that  is  new 
or  prodigious  ?  Is  it  for  this  that  a  tyrant  is  formida- 
ble ?     Is  it  on  this  account  that  the  swords  of  his 


342  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

guards  seem  so  large  and  sharp  ?  Try  these  things 
upon  others.  For  my  part,  I  have  examined  the 
whole.  No  one  has  authority  over  me.  God  hath 
made  me  free ;  I  know  his  commands ;  after  this  no 
one  can  enslave  me.  I  have  a  proper  vindicator  of 
my  freedom;  proper  judges.  Are  you  the  master 
of  my  body  ?  But  what  is  that  to  me  ?  Of  my  little 
estate  ?  But  what  is  that  to  me  ?  Of  banishment 
and  chains?  Why  all  these  again,  and  my  whole 
body,  I  give  up  to  you  ;  make  a  trial  of  your  power 
whenever  you  please,  and  you  will  find  how  far  it 
extends. 

Whom,  then,  can  I  any  longer  fear  ?  Those  who 
guard  the  chamber  ?  Lest  they  should  do  —  what  ? 
Shut  me  out  ?  If  they  find  me  desirous  to  come  in, 
let  them.  "  Why  do  you  come  to  the  door,  then  ?  " 
Because  it  is  fitting  for  me,  that  while  the  play  lasts 
I  should  play  too.  "  How  then  are  you  incapable  of 
being  shut  out  ?  "  Because,  if  I  am  not  admitted,  I 
would  not  wish  to  go  in ;  but  would  much  rather 
that  things  should  be  as  they  are,  for  I  esteem  what 
God  wills  to  be  better  than  what  I  will.  To  Him  I 
yield  myself  as  a  servant  and  a  follower.  My  pur- 
suits, my  desires,  my  very  will,  must  coincide  with 
His.  Being  shut  out  does  not  affect  me ;  but  those 
who  push  to  get  in.  Why,  then,  do  not  I  push  too? 
Because  I  know  that  there  is  no  really  good  thing  dis- 
tributed to  those  who  get  in.  But  when  I  hear  any 
one  congratulated  on  the  favor  of  Caesar,  I  ask  what 
he  has  got.  "  A  province."  Has  he  the  needed  wis- 
dom also ?  "A  public  06106."  Has  he  with  it  the 
knowledge  how  to  use  it  ?  If  not,  why  should  I  push 
my  way  in  ? 

Some  one  scatters  nuts  and  figs.     Children  scram- 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  343 

ble  and  quarrel  for  them ;  but  not  men,  for  they 
think  them  trifles.  But  if  any  one  should  scatter 
shells,  not  even  children  would  scramble  for  these. 
Provinces  are  being  distributed.  Let  children  look  to 
it.  Money.  Let  children  look  to  it.  Military  com- 
mand, a  consulship.  Let  children  scramble  for  them. 
Let  these  be  shut  out,  be  beaten,  kiss  the  hands  of  the 
giver,  or  of  his  slaves.  But  to  me  they  are  mere  figs 
and  nuts.  "  What,  then,  is  to  be  done  ?  "  If  you  miss 
them  while  he  is  throwing  them,  do  not  trouble  your- 
self about  it ;  but  if  a  fig  should  fall  into  your  lap, 
take  it,  and  eat  it ;  for  one  may  pay  so  much  regard 
even  to  a  fig.  But  if  I  am  to  stoop  and  throw  down 
one  [rival]  or  be  thrown  down  by  another,  and  flat- 
ter those  who  succeed,  a  fig  is  not  worth  this,  nor  is 
any  other  of  those  things  which  are  not  really  good, 
and  which  the  philosophers  have  persuaded  me  not  to 
esteem  as  good. 

Show  me  the  swords  of  the  guards.  "  See  how 
large  and  how  sharp  they  are."  What,  then,  can 
these  great  and  sharp  swords  do  ?  "  They  kill." 
And  what  can  a  fever  do  ?  "  Nothing  else."  And  a 
[falling]  tile  ?  "  Nothing  else."  Do  you  then  wish 
me  to  be  bewildered  by  all  these  things,  and  to  wor- 
ship them,  and  to  go  about  as  a  slave  to  them  all  ? 
Heaven  forbid  !  But  having  once  learned  that  every- 
thing that  is  born  must  likewise  die,  (that  the  world 
may  not  be  at  a  stand,  nor  the  course  of  it  hindered,)  I 
no  longer  see  any  difference,  whether  this  be  effected 
by  a  fever,  or  a  tile,  or  a  soldier ;  but  if  any  compari- 
son is  to  be  made,  I  know  that  the  soldier  will  effect 
it  with  less  pain  and  more  speedily.  Since  then  I 
neither  fear  any  of  those  things  which  he  can  inflict 
upon  me,  nor  covet  anything  which  he  can  bestow, 


344  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

why  do  I  stand  any  longer  in  awe  of  a  tyrant  ?  Why 
am  I  amazed  at  him?  Why  do  I  fear  his  guards? 
Why  do  I  rejoice,  if  he  speaks  kindly  to  me,  and 
receives  me  graciously ;  and  why  boast  to  others  of 
my  reception  ?  For  is  he  Socrates  or  Diogenes,  that 
his  praise  should  show  what  I  am  ?  Or  have  I  set 
my  heart  on  imitating  his  manners  ?  But  to  keep  up 
the  play  I  go  to  him  and  serve  him,  so  long  as  he 
commands  nothing  unreasonable  or  improper.  But 
if  he  should  say  to  me,  "  Go  to  Salamis,  and  bring 
Leon,"  *  I  bid  him  seek  another,  for  I  play  no  longer. 
"  Lead  him  away."  I  follow  as  a  part  of  the  play. 
"  But  your  head  will  be  taken  off."  And  will  his 
own  remain  on  forever ;  or  yours,  who  obey  him  ? 
"  But  you  will  be  thrown  out  unburied."  If  I  am 
identical  with  my  corpse,  I  shall  be  thrown  out ;  but 
if  I  am  something  else  than  the  corpse,  speak  more 
handsomely,  as  the  thing  is,  and  do  not  think  to 
frighten  me.  These  things  are  frightful  to  children 
and  fools.  But  if  any  one,  who  has  once  entered  into 
the  school  of  a  philosopher,  knows  not  what  he  him- 
self is,  then  he  deserves  to  be  frightened,  and  to  natter 
the  last  object  of  flattery ;  if  he  has  not  yet  learnt 
that  he  is  neither  flesh,  nor  bones,  nor  nerves,  but  is 
that  which  makes  use  of  these,  and  regulates  and 
comprehends  the  phenomena  of  existence. 

"Well;  but  these  reasonings  make  men  despise 
the  laws."  And  what  reasonings,  then,  render  those 
who  use  them  more  obedient  to  the  laws  ?  But  the 
law  of  fools  is  no  law.  And  yet,  see  how  these  rea- 
sonings render  us  properly  disposed,  even  towards 
such  persons,  since  they  teach  us  not  to  assert  against 
them  any  claim  wherein  they  can  surpass  us.     They 

*  As  with  Socrates;  see  note,  ante,  p.  314. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  345 

teach  us  to  give  up  body,  to  give  up  estate,  children, 
parents,  brothers,  to  yield  everything,  to  let  go  every- 
thing, excepting  only  principles ;  which  even  Zeus 
hath  excepted  and  decreed  to  be  every  one's  own 
property.  What  unreasonableness,  what  breach  of 
the  laws,  is  there  in  this  ?  Where  you  are  superior 
and  stronger,  there  I  give  way  to  you.  Where,  on 
the  contrary,  I  am  superior,  do  you  submit  to  me  ; 
for  this  has  been  my  study,  and  not  yours.  Your 
study  has  been  to  walk  upon  a  mosaic  floor,  to  be 
attended  by  your  servants  and  clients,  to  wear  fine 
clothes,  to  have  a  great  number  of  hunters,  fiddlers, 
and  players.  Do  I  lay  any  claim  to  these  ?  On  the 
other  hand,  have  you  made  a  study  of  principles,  or 
even  of  your  own  reason  ?  Do  you  know  of  what 
parts  it  consists?  How  they  are  combined  and 
joined,  and  with  what  powers  ?  Why,  then,  do  you 
take  it  amiss,  if  another,  who  has  studied  them,  has 
the  advantage  of  you  in  these  things  ?  "  But  they 
are  of  all  things  the  greatest."  Well ;  and  who  re- 
strains you  from  being  conversant  with  them,  and 
attending  to  them  ever  so  carefully  ?  Or  who  is  bet- 
ter provided  with  books,  with  leisure,  with  assistants  ? 
Only  turn  your  thoughts  now  and  then  to  these  mat- 
ters ;  bestow  but  a  little  time  upon  your  own  ruling 
faculty.  Consider  what  is  the  power  you  have,  and 
whence  it  came,  that  uses  all  other  things,  that  exam- 
ines them  all,  that  chooses,  that  rejects.  But  while 
you  employ  yourself  merely  about  externals,  you  will 
possess  those  indeed  beyond  all  rivals  ;  but  all  else 
will  be,  just  as  you  elect  to  have  it,  sordid  and  neg- 
lected. 


346  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CONCERNING   SUCH  AS   HASTILY  ASSUME   THE 
PHILOSOPHIC    DRESS. 

NEVER  commend,  or  censure  any  one  for  common 
actions,  nor  attribute  to  them  either  skilfulness 
or  unskilfulness ;  and  thus  you  will  at  once  be  free 
both  from  rashness  and  ill-nature.  Such  a  one  bathes 
hastily.  Does  he  therefore  do  it  ill  ?  Not  at  all.  But 
what  ?  Hastily.  "  Is  everything  well  done,  then  ?  " 
By  no  means.  But  what  is  done  from  good  princi- 
ples is  well  done  ;  what  from  bad  ones,  ill.  Till  you 
know  from  what  principle  any  one  acts,  neither  com- 
mend nor  censure  the  action.  But  the  principle  is 
not  easily  discerned  from  the  external  appearance. 
Such  a  one  is  a  carpenter.  Why  ?  He  uses  an  axe. 
What  proof  is  that  ?  Such  a  one  is  a  musician,  for 
he  sings.  What  proof  is  that  ?  Such  a  one  is  a  phi- 
losopher. Why?  Because  he  wears  a  cloak  and 
long  hair.  What  then  do  mountebanks  wear  ?  And 
so,  when  people  see  any  of  these  acting  indecently, 
they  presently  say,  "  See  what  the  philosopher  does." 
But  they  ought  rather,  from  his  acting  indecently, 
to  say  that  he  is  no  philosopher.  For,  if  indeed  the 
essence  of  philosophic  pursuits  is  to  wear  a  cloak  and 
long  hair,  they  say  right ;  but  if  it  be  rather  to  keep 
himself  free  from  faults,  since  he  does  not  fulfil  his 
profession,  why  do  not  they  deprive  him  of  his  title  ? 
For  this  is  the  way  with  regard  to  other  arts.  When 
we  see  any  one  handle  an  axe  awkwardly,  we  do  not 
say,  "  Where  is  the  use  of  this  art  ?  See  how  poorly 
carpenters  acquit  themselves."     But  we  say  the  very 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  347 

contrary,  "  This  man  is  no  carpenter  ;  for  he  handles 
an  axe  awkwardly."  So,  if  we  hear  any  one  sing 
badly,  we  do  not  say,  "  Observe  how  musicians  sing," 
but  rather,  "  This  fellow  is  no  musician."  It  is  with 
regard  to  philosophy  alone,  that  people  are  thus  af- 
fected. When  they  see  any  one  acting  inconsistently 
with  the  profession  of  a  philosopher,  they  do  not  take 
away  his  title  ;  but  assuming  that  he  is  a  philosopher, 
and  then  reasoning  from  his  improper  behavior,  they 
infer  that  philosophy  is  of  no  use. 

"  What,  then,  is  the  reason  of  this  ?  "  Because  we 
pay  some  regard  to  the  idea  which  we  have  of  a  car- 
penter and  a  musician,  and  so  of  other  artists,  but 
not  of  a  philosopher ;  which  idea  being  thus  vague 
and  confused,  we  judge  of  it  only  from  external 
appearances.  And  of  what  other  art  do  we  form  our 
opinion  from  the  dress  or  the  hair  ?  Has  it  not  prin- 
ciples too,  and  materials,  and  an  aim  ?  What,  then, 
are  the  materials  of  a  philosopher  ?  A  cloak  ?  No, 
but  reason.  What  his  aim  ?  To  wear  a  cloak  ?  No, 
but  to  have  his  reason  in  good  order.  What  are  his 
principles?  Are  they  how  to  get  a  great  beard,  or 
long  hair  ?  No,  but  rather,  as  Zeno  expresses  it,  — 
to  know  the  elements  of  reason,  what  is  each  sepa- 
rately and  how  linked  together,  and  what  their  con- 
sequences. 

Why,  then,  will  you  not  first  see,  whether  when 
acting  improperly  he  fulfils  his  profession,  ere  you 
proceed  to  blame  the  study?  Whereas  now,  when 
acting  soberly  yourself,  you  say,  in  regard  to  what- 
ever he  appears  to  do  amiss,  "  Observe  the  philoso- 
pher ! "  As  if  it  were  proper  to  call  a  person,  who 
does  such  things,  a  philosopher.  And  again,  "  This 
is  philosophical ! "     But  you  do  not  say,  "  Observe 


348  THE   DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

the  carpenter,  or  observe  the  musician, "  when  you 
know  one  of  them  to  be  an  adulterer,  or  see  him  to 
be  a  glutton.  So,  in  some  small  degree,  even  you 
perceive  what  the  profession  of  a  philosopher  is ;  but 
are  misled  and  confounded  by  your  own  carelessness. 
And,  indeed,  even  those  called  philosophers  enter  up- 
on their  profession  by  commonplace  beginnings.  As 
soon  as  they  have  put  on  the  cloak  and  let  their  beards 
grow,  they  cry,  "  I  am  a  philosopher."  Yet  no  one 
says,  "  I  am  a  musician,"  merely  because  he  has 
bought  a  fiddle  and  fiddlestick:  nor,  "I  am  a  smith," 
because  he  is  dressed  in  the  cap  and  apron.  But 
they  take  their  name  from  their  art,  not  from  their 
garb. 

For  this  reason,  Euphrates  was  in  the  right  to  say, 
"I  long  endeavored  to  conceal  my  embracing  the 
philosophic  life  ;  and  it  was  of  use  to  me.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  I  knew  that  whatever  I  did  right  I  did 
not  for  spectators,  but  for  myself.  I  eat  in  a  seemly 
manner,  for  my  own  approbation.  I  preserved  com- 
posure of  look  and  manner,  all  for  God  and  myself. 
Then,  as  I  contended  alone,  I  alone  was  in  danger. 
Philosophy  was  in  no  danger,  on  my  doing  anything 
shameful  or  unbecoming ;  nor  did  I  hurt  the  rest  of 
the  world,  which,  by  offending  as  a  philosopher,  I 
might  have  done.  For  this  reason,  they  who  were 
ignorant  of  my  intention,  used  to  wonder  that  while 
I  conversed  and  lived  entirely  with  philosophers,  I 
never  took  up  the  character.  And  where  was  the 
harm,  that  I  should  be  discovered  to  be  a  philoso- 
pher by  my  actions,  rather  than  by  the  usual  badges  ? 
See  how  I  eat,  how  I  drink,  how  I  sleep,  how  I  bear, 
how  I  forbear ;  how  I  assist  others  ;  how  I  make  use 
of  my  desires,  how  of  my  aversions ;  how  I  preserve 


THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS.  349 

the  natural  and  acquired  relations,  without  confusion 
and  without  obstruction.  Judge  of  me  hence,  if  you 
can.  But  if  you  are  so  deaf  and  blind  that  you 
would  not  suppose  Yulcan  himself  to  be  a  good 
smith,  unless  you  saw  the  cap  upon  his  head,  where 
is  the  harm  in  not  being  found  out  by  so  foolish  a 
judge  ?  " 

It  was  thus,  too,  that  Socrates  concealed  himself 
from  the  multitude ;  and  some  even  came  and  de- 
sired him  to  introduce  them  to  philosophers.  Was 
he  accustomed  to  be  displeased,  then,  like  us;  and 
to  say,  What !  do  not  you  take  me  for  a  philosopher  ? 
No,  he  took  them  and  introduced  them ;  contented 
with  merely  being  a  philosopher,  and  rejoicing  in 
feeling  no  annoyance,  that  he  was  not  thought  one. 
For  he  remembered  his  business ;  and  what  is  the 
business  of  a  wise  and  good  man  ?  To  have  many 
scholars  ?  By  no  means.  Let  those  see  to  it  who 
have  made  this  their  study.  Well,  then,  is  it  to  be  a 
perfect  master  of  difficult  theorems  ?  Let  others  see 
to  that,  too.  What,  then,  was  his  position,  and  what 
did  he  desire  to  be  ?  What  constituted  his  hurt  or 
advantage  ?  "  If,"  said  he,  "  any  one  can  still  hurt 
me,  I  am  accomplishing  nothing.  If  I  depend  for  my 
advantage  upon  another,  I  am  nothing.  Have  I  any 
wish  unaccomplished  ?  Then  I  am  unhappy."  To 
such  a  combat  he  invited  every  one,  and,  in  my  opin- 
ion, yielded  to  no  one.  But  do  you  think  it  was 
by  making  proclamation,  and  saying,  "  I  am  such  a 
one  ?  "  Far  from  it :  but  by  being  such  a  one.  For 
it  is  folly  and  insolence  to  say,  "  I  am  passive  and 
undisturbed.  Be  it  known  to  you,  mortals,  that 
while  you  are  disturbed  and  vexed  about  things  of 
no  value,  I  alone  am  free  from  all  perturbatioIl.', 


350  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

Are  you  then  so  little  satisfied  with  your  exemption 
from  pain  that  you  must  needs  make  proclamation: 
"  Come  hither  all  you  who  have  the  gout,  or  the  head- 
ache, or  a  fever,  or  are  lame,  or  blind ;  and  see  me, 
free  from  every  distemper."  This  is  vain  and  shock- 
ing, unless  you  can  show,  like  JEsculapius,  by  what 
method  of  cure  they  may  presently  become  as  free 
from  distempers  as  yourself,  and  can  bring  your  own 
health  as  a  proof  of  it. 

Such  is  the  Cynic  honored  with  the  sceptre  and 
diadem  from  Zeus ;  who  says,  "  That  you  may  see, 
0  mankind,  that  you  do  not  seek  happiness  and  tran- 
quillity where  it  is,  but  where  it  is  not,  behold,  I  am 
sent  an  example  to  you  from  God  ;  —  who  have  nei- 
ther estate,  nor  house,  nor  wife,  nor  children,  —  nor 
even  a  bed,  coat,  or  furniture.  And  yet  see  how  in 
what  good  condition  I  am.  Try  me  ;  and  if  you  see 
me  free  from  perturbation,  hear  the  remedies,  and  by 
what  means  I  was  cured."  This  now  is  benevolent 
and  noble.  But  consider  whose  business  it  is.  That 
of  Zeus,  or  his  whom  he  judges  worthy  of  this  office  ; 
that  he  may  never  show  to  the  world  anything  to 
impeach  his  own  testimony  for  virtue  and  against 
externals. 

"  Neither  pallid  of  hue,  nor  wiping  tears  from  his  cheek."  * 

And  not  only  this,  but  he  does  not  desire  or  seek  for 
company,  or  place,  or  amusement,  as  boys  do  the  vin- 
tage time,  or  holidays;  —  being  always  fortified  by 
virtuous  shame,  as  others  are  by  walls,  and  gates,  and 
sentinels. 

But  now  they  who  have  only  such  an  inclination 
to  philosophy  as  weak  stomachs  have  to  some  kinds 

*  Homer,  Odyssey,  XL  528,  529.— H. 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  351 

of  food,  of  which  they  will  presently  grow  sick,  ex- 
pect to  hasten  to  the  sceptre,  to  the  kingdom.  They 
let  their  hair  grow,  assume  the  cloak,  bare  the  shoul- 
der, wrangle  with  all  they  meet ;  and  if  they  see  any 
one  in  a  thick,  warm  coat,  must  needs  wrangle  with 
him.  First  harden  yourself  against  all  weather,  man. 
Consider  your  inclination  ;  whether  it  be  not  that  of 
a  weak  stomach,  or  of  a  longing  woman.  First  study 
to  conceal  what  you  are ;  philosophize  a  little  while 
by  yourself.  Fruit  is  produced  thus.  The  seed  must 
first  be  buried  in  the  ground,  lie  hid  there  some  time, 
and  grow  up  by  degrees,  that  it  may  come  to  perfec- 
tion. But  if  it  produces  the  ear  before  the  stalk  has 
its  proper  joints,  it  is  imperfect,  and  of  the  garden  of 
Adonis.*  Now  you  are  a  poor  plant  of  this  kind. 
You  have  blossomed  too  soon:  the  winter  will  kill 
you.  See  what  countrymen  say  about  seeds  of  any 
sort,  when  the  warm  weather  comes  too  early.  They 
are  in  great  anxiety  for  fear  the  seeds  should  shoot 
out  too  luxuriantly  ;  and  then  one  frost  taking  them 
may  show  how  prejudicial  their  forwardness  was. 
Beware  you  too,  0  man.  You  have  shot  out  luxuri- 
antly ;  you  have  sprung  forth  towards  a  trifling  fame, 
before  the  proper  season.  You  seem  to  be  somebody, 
as  a  fool  may  among  fools.  You  will  be  taken  by  the 
frost ;  or  rather,  you  are  already  frozen  downward 
at  the  root ;  you  still  blossom  indeed  a  little  at  the 
top,  and  therefore  you  think  you  are  still  alive  and 
flourishing. 

*  At  the  feast  of  Adonis  there  were  carried  about  little  earthen 
pots  filled  with  mould,  in  which  grew  several  sorts  of  herbs.  These 
were  called  gardens  ;  and  from  thence  the  gardens  of  Adonis  came  to 
be  proverbially  applied  to  things  unfruitful  or  fading  ;  because  those 
herbs  were  only  sowed  so  long  before  the  festival  as  to  sprout  forth 
and  be  green  at  that  time,  and  then  were  presently  cast  into  the 
water.  —  C. 


352  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

Let  us,  at  least,  ripen  naturally.  Why  do  you  lay 
us  open  ?  Why  do  you  force  us  ?  We  cannot  yet 
bear  the  air.  Suffer  the  root  to  grow ;  then  the  first, 
then  the  second,  then  the  third  joint  of  the  stalk  to 
spring  from  it;  and  thus  nature  will  force  out  the 
fruit,  whether  I  will  or  not.  For  who  that  is  charged 
with  such  principles,  but  must  perceive,  too,  his  own 
powers,  and  strive  to  put  them  in  practice.  Not  even 
a  bull  is  ignorant  of  his  own  powers,  when  any  wild 
beast  approaches  the  herd,  nor  waits  he  for  any  one 
to  encourage  him  ;  nor  does  a  dog  when  he  spies  any 
game.  And  if  I  have  the  powers  of  a  good  man,  shall 
I  wait  for  you  to  qualify  me  for  my  own  proper  ac- 
tions ?  But  believe  me,  I  have  them  not  quite  yet. 
Why,  then,  would  you  wish  me  to  be  withered  before 
my  time,  as  you  are  ? 


CHAPTER    IX. 

CONCERNING  A   PERSON    WHO   HAD    GROWN   IMMODEST. 

WHEN  you  see  another  in  power,  set  this  against 
it,  that  you  have  the  advantage  of  not  needing 
power.  When  you  see  another  rich,  see  what  you 
have  instead  of  riches ;  for  if  you  have  nothing  in 
their  stead,  you  are  miserable.  But  if  you  have  the 
advantage  of  not  needing  riches,  know  that  you  have 
something  more  than  he  has,  and  of  far  greater  value. 
Another  possesses  a  handsome  woman ;  you  the  hap- 
piness of  not  desiring  a  handsome  woman.  Do  you 
think  these  are  little  matters  ?  And  what  would  not 
those  very  persons  give,  who  are  rich  and  powerful, 
and  possess  handsome  women,  if  they  were  only  able 


THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS.       353 

to  despise  riches  and  power,  and  those  very  women 
whom  they  love  and  whom  they  possess !  Do  not 
yon  know  of  what  nature  the  thirst  of  one  in  a  fever 
is  ?  It  has  no  resemblance  to  that  of  a  person  in 
health.  The  latter  drinks  and  is  satisfied.  But  the 
other,  after  being  delighted  a  very  little  while,  is  nan- 
seated,  the  water  becomes  bile,  he  is  sick  at  his  stom- 
ach, and  becomes  more  thirsty  than  ever.  It  is  the 
same  with  avarice,  ambition,  lust.  Presently  comes 
jealousy,  fear  of  loss,  unbecoming  words,  designs, 
and  actions. 

"  And  what,"  say  you,  "  do  I  lose  ?  "  You  were 
modest,  man,  and  are  so  no  longer.  Have  you  lost 
nothing  ?  Instead  of  Chrysippus  and  Zeno,  you  read 
Aristides*  and  Euenus.f  Have  you  lost  nothing, 
then  ?  Instead  of  Socrates  and  Diogenes,  you  admire 
him  who  can  corrupt  and  seduce  most  women.  You 
would  be  handsome,  by  decking  your  person,  when 
you  are  not  really  so.  You  love  to  appear  in  fine 
clothes,  to  attract  female  eyes  ;  and,  if  you  anywhere 
meet  with  a  good  perfumer,  you  esteem  yourself  a 
happy  man.  But  formerly  you  did  not  so  mudi  as 
think  of  any  of  these  things;  but  only  where  you 
might  find  a  decent  discourse,  a  worthy  person,  a 
noble  design.  For  this  reason,  you  used  to  appear 
like  a  man  both  at  home  and  abroad ;  to  wear  a 
manly  dress ;  to  hold  discourses  worthy  of  a  man. 
And  after  this,  do  you  tell  me  you  have  lost  noth- 
ing ?  What  then,  do  men  lose  nothing  but  money  ? 
Is  not  modesty  to  be  lost  ?  Is  not  decency  to  be  lost  ? 
Or  can  he  who  loses  these  suffer  no  injury  ?  You 
indeed  perhaps  no  longer  think  anything  of  this  sort 

*  An  indecent  poet  of  Miletus.  —  C. 

t  A  writer  of  amorous  verses.  —  C. 

23 


354  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

to  be  an  injury.  But  there  was  once  a  time  when  you 
accounted  this  to  be  the  only  injury  and  hurt ;  when 
you  were  anxiously  afraid  lest  any  one  should  shake 
your  regard  from  such  discourses  and  actions.  See, 
it  is  not  shaken  by  another,  but  by  yourself.  Fight 
against  yourself,  recover  yourself  to  decency,  to  mod- 
esty, to  freedom.  If  you  had  formerly  been  told  any 
of  these  things  of  me,  that  one  prevailed  on  me  to 
commit  adultery,  to  wear  such  a  dress  as  yours,  or  to 
be  perfumed,  would  you  not  have  gone  and  laid  vio- 
lent hands  on  the  man  who  thus  abused  me  ?  And 
will  you  not  now  help  yourself?  For  how  much 
easier  is  that  sort  of  assistance  ?  You  need  not  kill, 
or  fetter,  or  affront,  or  go  to  law  with  any  one ; 
but  merely  talk  with  yourself,  the  person  who  will 
most  readily  be  persuaded  by  you,  and  with  whom 
no  one  has  greater  weight  than  you.  And,  in  the 
first  place,  condemn  your  actions ;  but  when  you 
have  condemned  them,  do  not  despair  of  yourself, 
nor  be  like  those  poor-spirited  people  who,  when  they 
have  once  given  way,  abandon  themselves  entirely, 
and  are  carried  along  as  by  a  torrent.  Take  exam- 
ple from  the  wrestling-masters.  Has  the  boy  fallen 
down  ?  Get  up  again,  they  say ;  wrestle  again,  till 
you  have  acquired  strength.  Be  you  affected  in  the 
same  manner.  For  be  assured  that  there  is  nothing 
more  tractable  than  the  human  mind.  You  need 
but  will,  and  it  is  done,  it  is  set  right;  as,  on  the 
contrary,  you  need  but  nod  over  the  work,  and  it  is 
ruined.  For  both  ruin  and  recovery  are  from  within. 
"And,  after  all,  what  good  will  this  do  me?" 
What  greater  good  do  you  seek?  From  being  im- 
pudent, you  will  become  modest;  from  indecent, 
decent ;  from  dissolute,  sober.     But  if  you  seek  any 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  355 

greater  things  than  these,  do  as  you  are  doing.     It  is 
no  longer  in  the  power  of  any  God  to  save  you. 


CHAPTER    X. 

WHAT   THINGS    WE   ARE    TO    DESPISE,   AND    WHAT 
CHIEFLY   TO    VALUE. 

THE  doubts  and  perplexities  of  all  men  are  con- 
cerning externals ;  —  what  they  shall  do,  —  how 
it  will  be,  —  what  will  be  the  event,  —  whether  this 
thing  will  happen,  or  that  ?  All  this  is  the  talk  of 
persons  engaged  in  things  uncontrollable  by  will. 
For  who  says,  How  shall  I  do,  not  to  assent  to  what 
is  false  ?  How,  not  to  dissent  from  what  is  true  ? 
If  any  one  is  of  such  a  good  disposition  as  to  be  anx- 
ious about  these  things,  I  will  remind  him :  "  Why 
are  you  anxious?  It  is  in  your  own  power.  Be 
assured.  Do  not  hastily  give  your  assent  before 
you  have  applied  those  tests  prescribed  by  nature." 
Again,  if  he  be  anxious,  for  fear  lest  he  should  fail  of 
what  he  seeks  or  incur  what  he  shuns,  I  will  first 
embrace  him,  because,  slighting  what  others  are  flut- 
tered and  terrified  about,  he  takes  care  of  what  is  his 
own,  where  his  very  being  is  ;  then  I  will  say  to  him : 
"  If  you  would  not  fail  of  what  you  seek,  or  incur 
what  you  shun,  desire  nothing  that  belongs  to  oth- 
ers ;  shun  nothing  beyond  your  own  power ;  other- 
wise you  must  necessarily  be  disappointed  in  what 
you  seek,  and  incur  what  you  shun."  Where  is  the 
doubt  here  ?  Where  the  room  for,  How  will  it  he  ? 
What  will  be  the  event?  And  Will  this  happen,  or  that? 
Is  not  the  event  uncontrollable  by  will?   "Yes."   And 


356  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

does  not  the  essence  of  good  and  evil  consist  in  what 
is  within  the  control  of  will  ?  It  is  in  your  power, 
then,  to  treat  every  event  conformably  to  nature? 
Can  any  one  restrain  you  ?  "  No  one."  Then  do 
not  say  to  me  any  more,  How  will  it  be  f  For,  how- 
ever it  be,  you  will  set  it  right,  and  the  event  to  you 
will  be  auspicious. 

Pray  what  would  Hercules  have  been,  if  he  had 
said,  "  What  can  be  done  to  prevent  a  great  lion,  or 
a  large  boar,  or  savage  men,  from  coming  in  my 
way  ?  "  Why,  what  is  that  to  you  ?  If  a  large  boar 
should  come  in  your  way,  you  will  fight  the  greater 
combat ;  if  wicked  men,  you  will  deliver  the  world 
from  wicked  men.  "  But  then  if  I  should  die  by 
this  means  ?  "  You  will  die  as  a  good  man,  in  the 
performance  of  a  gallant  action.  For  since,  at  all 
-events,  one  must  die,  one  must  necessarily  be  found 
doing  something,  either  tilling,  or  digging,  or  trading, 
or  serving  a  consulship,  or  sick  with  indigestion  or 
dysentery.  At  what  employment,  then,  would  you 
have  death  find  you  ?  For  my  part,  I  would  have  it 
to  be  some  humane,  beneficent,  public-spirited,  noble 
action.  But  if  I  cannot  be  found  doing  any  such 
great  things,  yet,  at  least,  I  would  be  doing  what  I 
am  incapable  of  being  restrained  from,  what  is  given 
me  to  do,  —  correcting  myself,  improving  that  faculty 
which  makes  use  of  the  phenomena  of  existence  to 
procure  tranquillity,  and  render  to  the  several  rela- 
tions of  life  their  due ;  and  if  I  am  so  fortunate,  ad- 
vancing still  further  to  the  security  of  judging  right. 
If  death  overtakes  me  in  such  a  situation,  it  is  enough 
for  me  if  I  can  stretch  out  my  hands  to  God,  and  say, 
"  The  opportunities  which  I  have  received  from  Thee 
of  comprel  ending  and  obeying  thy  administration,  I 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  357 

have  not  neglected.  As  far  as  in  me  lay,  I  have  not 
dishonored  Thee.  See  how  I  have  used  my  percep- 
tions ;  how  my  convictions.  Have  I  at  any  time 
found  fault  with  Thee  ?  Have  I  been  discontented 
at  Thy  dispensations ;  or  wished  them  otherwise  ? 
Have  I  transgressed  the  relations  of  life  ?  I  thank 
Thee  that  Thou  hast  brought  me  into  being.  I  am 
satisfied  with  the  time  that  I  have  enjoyed  the  things 
which  thou  hast  given  me.  Receive  them  back  again, 
and  distribute  them  as  thou  wilt ;  for  they  were  all 
Thine,  and  Thou  gavest  them  to  me." 

Is  it  not  enough  to  depart  in  this  mood  of  mind  ? 
And  what  life  is  better  and  more  becoming  than  that 
of  such  a  one  ?  Or  what  conclusion  happier  ?  But 
in  order  to  attain  these  advantages,  there  are  no  in- 
considerable risks  to  be  encountered.  You  cannot 
seek  a  consulship  and  these  things  too,  nor  toil  for 
an  estate  and  these  things  too,  nor  take  charge  of 
your  slaves  and  yourself  too.  But  if  you  insist  on 
anything  of  what  belongs  to  others,  then  what  is  your 
own  is  lost.  This  is  the  nature  of  the  affair.  Noth- 
ing is  to  be  had  for  nothing.  And  .where  is  the  won- 
der ?  If  you  would  be  consul,  you  must  watch,  run 
about,  kiss  hands,  be  wearied  down  with  waiting  at 
the  doors  of  others,  must  say  and  do  many  slavish 
things,  send  gifts  to  many,  daily  presents  to  some. 
And  for  what  result  ?  Twelve  bundles  of  rods  ;  *  to 
sit  three  or  four  times  on  the  tribunal ;  to  give  the 
games  of  the  circus,  and  suppers  in  baskets  to  all  the 
world ;  or  let  any  one  show  me  what  there  is  in  it 
more  than  this.  Will  you,  then,  employ  no  expense 
and  no  pains  to  acquire  peace  and  tranquillity,  to 
sleep  sound  while  you  do  sleep,  to  be  thoroughly 

*  The  ensigns  of  the  consular  office.  —  C. 


358  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

awake  while  you  are  awake,  to  fear  nothing,  to  be  anx- 
ious for  nothing  ?  But  if  anything  belonging  to  you 
be  lost  or  idly  wasted,  while  you  are  thus  engaged,  or 
another  gets  what  you  ought  to  have  had,  will  you 
immediately  begin  fretting  at  what  has  happened? 
Will  you  not  compare  the  exchange  you  have  made  ? 
How  much  for  how  much  ?  But  you  would  have 
such  great  things  for  nothing,  I  suppose.  And  how 
can  you  ?  Two  trades  cannot  be  combined ;  you 
cannot  bestow  your  care  both  upon  externals  and 
your  own  ruling  faculty.  But  if  you  would  have  the 
former,  let  the  latter  alone  ;  or  you  will  succeed  in 
neither,  while  you  are  drawn  in  different  ways  by  the 
two.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  would  have  the  lat- 
ter, let  the  former  alone.  "  The  oil  will  be  spilled, 
the  furniture  will  be  spoiled  "  ;  —  but  still  I  shall  be 
free  from  passion.  "  There  will  be  a  fire  when  I  am 
out  of  the  way,  and  the  books  will  be  destroyed  "; 
—  but  still  I  shall  make  a  right  use  of  the  phenome- 
na of  existence.  "  But  I  shall  have  nothing  to  eat." 
If  I  am  so  unlucky,  dying  is  a  safe  harbor.  That  is 
the  harbor  for  all,  death  ;  .that  is  the  refuge  ;  and  for 
that  reason  there  is  nothing  difficult  in  life.  You 
may  go  out  of  doors  when  you  please,  and  be  troubled 
with  smoke  no  longer. 

Why,  then,  are  you  anxious?  Why  break  your 
rest?  Why  do  you  not  calculate  where  your  good 
and  evil  lie ;  and  say,  "  They  are  both  in  my  own 
power;  nor  can  any  deprive  me  of  the  one,  nor 
involve  me  against  my  will  in  the  other."  Why, 
then,  do  not  I  lay  myself  down  and  sleep  ?  What  is 
my  own  is  safe.  Let  what  belongs  to  others  look  to 
itself,  who  carries  it  off,  how  it  is  distributed  by  him 
who  hath  the  disposal  of  it.    Who  am  I,  to  will  that  it 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  359 

should  be  so  and  so?  For  is  the  option  given  to 
me  ?  Has  any  one  made  me  the  dispenser  of  it  ? 
What  I  have  in  my  own  disposal  is  enough  for  me. 
I  must  make  the  best  I  can  of  this.  Other  things 
must  be  as  their  master  pleases. 

Does  any  one  who  has  these  things  before  his  eyes 
lie  sleepless,  and  shift  from  side  to  side  ?  What 
would  he  have,  or  what  needs  he?  Patroclus,*  or 
Antilochus,  or  Menelaus  ?  Why,  did  he  ever  think 
any  one  of  his  friends  immortal  ?  When  was  it  not 
obvious  that  on  the  morrow,  or  the  next  day,  he  him- 
self or  that  friend  might  die  ?  "  Ay,  very  true," 
he  says  ;  "  but  I  reckoned  that  he  would  survive  me, 
and  bring  up  my  son."  Because  you  were  a  fool, 
and  reckoned  upon  uncertainties.  Why,  then,  do 
you  not  blame  yourself,  instead  of  sitting  in  tears, 
like  a  girl  ?  "  But  he  used  to  set  my  dinner  before 
me."  Because  he  was  alive,  foolish  man ;  but  now 
he  cannot.  But  Automedon  will  set  it  before  you ; 
and  if  he  should  die,  you  will  find  somebody  else. 
What  if  the  vessel  in  which  your  meat  used  to  be 
cooked  should  happen  to  be  broken ;  must  you  die 
with  hunger  because  you  have  not  your  old  vessel? 
Do  you  not  send  and  buy  a  new  one  ? 

"  What  greater  evil  could  afflict  my  breast  1 " 

Is  this  your  evil,  then  ?  And,  instead  of  removing  it, 
do  you  accuse  your  mother,  that  she  did  not  foretell 
it  to  you,  that  you  might  have  spent  your  whole  life 
in  grieving  from  that  time  forward  ? 

Do  you  not  think  now  that  Homer  composed  all 
this  on  purpose  to  show  us  that  the  noblest,  the 

*  This  whole  paragraph  refers  to  the  lament  of  Achilles  over 
Patroclus.     Iliad,  XIX.  315,  etc.  — H. 


360  THE  DISCOURSES  OP  EPICTETUS. 

strongest,  the  richest,  the  handsomest  of  men  may 
nevertheless  be  the  most  unfortunate  and  wretched, 
if  they  have  not  the  principles  they  need  ? 


CHAPTER    XI. 

OP  PURITY. 

SOME  doubt  whether  the  love  of  society  be  com- 
prehended in  the  nature  of  man ;  and  yet  these 
very  persons  do  not  seem  to  me  to  doubt  but  that 
purity  is  by  all  means  comprehended  in  it ;  and  that 
by  this,  if  by  anything,  it  is  distinguished  from  brute 
animals.  When,  therefore,  we  see  any  animal  clean- 
ing itself,  we  are  apt  to  cry  with  wonder,  that  it  is  like 
a  human  creature.  On  the  contrary,  if  an  animal  is 
censured,  we  are  presently  apt  to  say,  by  way  of  ex- 
cuse, that  it  is  not  a  human  creature.  Such  excel- 
lence do  we  suppose  to  be  in  man,  which  we  first 
received  from  the  Gods.  For  as  they  are  by  nature 
pure  and  uncorrupt,  in  proportion  as  men  approach 
to  them  by  reason,  they  are  tenacious  of  purity  and 
incorruption.  But  since  it  is  impracticable  that  their 
essence,  composed  of  such  materials,  should  be  abso- 
lutely pure,  it  is  the  office  of  reason  to  endeavor  to 
render  it  as  pure  as  possible. 

The  first  and  highest  purity  or  impurity,  then,  is 
that  which  is  formed  in  the  soul.  But  you  will  not 
find  the  impurity  of  the  soul  and  body  to  be  alike. 
For  what  stain  can  you  find  in  the  soul,  unless  it  be 
something  which  renders  it  impure  in  its  operations  ? 
Now  the  operations  of  the  soul  are  its  pursuits  and 
avoidances,  its  desires,  aversions,  preparations,  inten- 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  361 

tions,  assents.  What,  then,  is  that  which  renders  it 
defiled  and  impure  in  these  operations?  Nothing 
else  than  its  perverse  judgments.  So  that  the  im- 
purity of  the  soul  consists  in  wicked  principles,  and 
its  purification  in  forming  right  principles ;  and  that 
is  pure  which  has  right  principles,  for  that  alone  is 
unmixed  and  undefiled  in  its  operations. 

Now  we  should,  as  far  as  possible,  endeavor  after 
something  like  this  in  the  body,  too.  It  is  impossi- 
ble but  that  in  such  a  composition  as  man,  there 
must  be  a  discharge  of  superfluous  phlegm.  For 
this  reason,  Nature  has  made  hands,  and  the  nostrils 
themselves  as  channels  to  let  out  the  moisture ;  nor 
can  this  be  neglected  with  propriety.  It  was  impos- 
sible but  that  the  feet  should  be  bemired  and  soiled 
from  what  they  pass  through.  Therefore  Nature  has 
prepared  water  and  hands.  It  was  impossible  but 
that  some  uncleanness  must  cleave  to  the  teeth  from 
eating.  Therefore,  she  says,  rinse  your  teeth.  Why? 
That  you  may  be  a  man,  and  not  a  wild  beast,  or  a 
swine.  It  was  impossible  but  that,  from  perspiration 
and  the  pressure  of  the  clothes,  something  dirty  and 
necessary  to  be  cleaned  should  remain  upon  the  body. 
For  this  there  is  water,  oil,  hands,  towels,  brushes, 
soap,  and  other  necessary  apparatus  for  its  purifica- 
tion. But  no ;  a  smith  indeed  will  get  the  rust  off  his 
iron,  and  have  proper  instruments  for  that  purpose ; 
and  you  yourself  will  have  your  plates  washed  before 
you  eat,  unless  you  are  quite  dirty  and  slovenly ;  but 
you  will  not  wash  nor  purify  your  body.  "  Why 
should  I  ? "  say  you.  I  tell  you  again,  in  the  first 
place,  that  you  may  be  like  a  man ;  and,  in  the  next, 
that  you  may  not  offend  those  with  whom  you  con- 
verse.   Do  you  think  it  fitting  to  smell  offensively  ? 


362  THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS. 

Be  it  so.  But  is  it  fitting  as  regards  those  who  sit 
near  you  ?  Who  are  placed  at  the  table  with  you  ? 
Who  salute  you?  Either  go  into  a  desert,  as  you 
deserve,  or  live  solitary  at  home,  and  be  the  only  suf- 
ferer. But  to  what  sort  of  character  does  it  belong 
to  live  in  a  city,  and  behave  so  carelessly  and  incon- 
siderately ?  If  Nature  had  trusted  even  a  horse  to 
your  care,  would  you  have  overlooked  and  neglected 
him  ?  Yet  now,  without  being  sensible  of  it,  you  do 
something  like  this.  Consider  your  body  as  commit- 
ted to  you,  instead  of  a  horse.  Wash  it,  rub  it,  take 
care  that  it  may  not  be  any  one's  aversion,  nor  dis- 
gust any  one.  Who  is  not  more  disgusted  at  a  foul, 
unwholesome-looking  sloven,  than  at  a  person  who 
has  been  accidentally  rolled  in  filth  ?  The  stench  of 
the  one  is  adventitious,  from  without ;  but  that  which 
arises  from  want  of  care  is  a  kind  of  inward  putrefac- 
tion. "  But  Socrates  bathed  but  seldom."  Yet  his 
person  looked  clean,  and  was  so  agreeable  and  pleas- 
ing, that  the  most  beautiful  and  noble  youths  were 
fond  of  him,  and  desired  rather  to  sit  by  him  than  by 
those  who  had  the  finest  persons.  He  might  have 
omitted  both  bathing  and  washing,  if  he  had  pleased ; 
and  yet  his  amount  of  bathing  had  its  effect.  Cold 
water  may  supply  the  place  of  the  warm  bath.  "  But 
Aristophanes  calls  him  one  of  the  pallid,  barefooted 
philosophers."  *  Why,  so  he  says,  too,  that  he  walked 
in  the  air,  and  stole  clothes  from  the  Palaestra.  Be- 
sides, all  who  have  written  of  Socrates,  affirm  quite 
the  contrary ;  that  he  was  not  only  agreeable  in  his 
conversation,  but  in  his  person  too.  And,  again, 
they  write  the  same  of  Diogenes.  For  we  ought  not 
to  frighten  the  world  from  philosophy  by  the  appear- 

*  Clouds,  1. 103.  —  H. 


THE  DISCOURSES   OP  EPICTETUS.  363 

ance  of  our  persons ;  but  to  show  our  serenity  of 
mind,  as  in  all  other  ways,  so  in  the  care  of  our  per- 
sons. "  See,  all  of  you,  that  I  have  nothing ;  that  I 
want  nothing.  Without  house,  without  city,  and  an 
exile  (if  that  happens  to  be  the  case),  and  without  a 
home,  I  live  more  easily  and  prosperously  than  the 
noble  and  rich.  Look  upon  my  person,  too,  that  it 
is  not  injured  by  coarse  fare."  But  if  any  one  should 
tell  me  this,  bearing  the  habit  and  the  visage  of  a 
condemned  criminal,  what  God  should  persuade  me 
to  come  near  philosophy,  while  it  renders  men  such 
figures  ?  Heaven  forbid !  I  would  not  do  it,  even 
if  I  was  sure  to  become  a  wise  man  for  my  pains. 
I  declare,  for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  that  a 
young  man,  on  his  first  inclination  to  philosophy, 
should  come  to  me  finically  dressed,  than  with  his 
hair  spoiled  and  dirty.  For  there  appears  in  him 
some  idea  of  beauty  and  desire  of  decency ;  and 
where  he  imagines  it  to  be,  there  he  applies  his  en- 
deavors. One  has  nothing  more  to  do  but  to  point  it 
out  to  him,  and  say,  "  You  seek  beauty,  young  man, 
and  you  do  well.  Be  assured,  then,  that  it  springs 
from  the  rational  part  of  you.  Seek  it  there,  where 
the  pursuits  and  avoidances,  the  desires  and  aver- 
sions, are  concerned.  Herein  consists  your  excel- 
lence ;  but  the  paltry  body  is  by  nature  clay.  Why 
do  you  trouble  yourself,  to  no  purpose,  about  it? 
You  will  be  convinced  by  time,  if  not  otherwise,  that 
it  is  nothing."  But  if  he  should  come  to  me  soiled 
and  dirty,  with  moustaches  drooping  to  his  knees, 
what  can  I  say  to  him  ?  By  what  similitude  allure 
him?  For  what  has  he  studied  which  has  any  re- 
semblance to  beauty,  that  I  may  transfer  his  atten- 
tion, and  say  that  beauty  is  not  there,  but  here? 


364  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

Would  you  have  me  tell  him  that  beauty  consists  not 
in  filth,  but  in  reason  ?  For  has  he  any  desire  of 
beauty  ?  Has  he  any  appearance  of  it  ?  Go,  and 
argue  with  a  hog  not  to  roll  in  the  mire. 

It  was  in  the  quality  of  a  young  man  who  loved 
beauty,  that  Polemo  was  touched  by  the  discourses 
of  Xenocrates.  For  he  entered  with  some  incentives 
to  the  study  of  beauty,  though  he  sought  in  the 
wrong  place.  And,  indeed,  Nature  hath  not  made 
the  very  brutes  dirty  which  live  with  man.  Does  a 
horse  wallow  in  the  mire?  Or  a  good  dog?  But 
swine,  and  dirty  geese,  and  worms,  and  spiders, 
which  are  banished  to  the  greatest  distance  from 
human  society.  Will  you,  then,  who  are  a  man, 
choose  not  to  be  even  one  of  the  animals  that  are 
conversant  with  man ;  but  rather  a  worm  or  a  spi- 
der ?  Will  you  not  bathe  sometimes,  be  it  in  what- 
ever manner  you  please  ?  Will  you  never  use  water 
to  wash  yourself?  Will  you  not  come  clean,  that 
they  who  converse  with  you  may  have  some  pleasure 
in  you  ?  But  will  you  accompany  us,  in  your  un- 
cleanness,  even  to  the  temples,  where  all  unclean 
ways  are  forbidden  ? 

What,  then,  would  anybody  have  you  adorn  your- 
self to  the  utmost?  By  no  means,  except  in  those 
things  where  our  nature  requires  it,  in  reason,  prin- 
ciples, actions;  but  in  our  persons,  only  so  far  as 
neatness  requires,  so  far  as  not  to  give  offence.  But 
if  you  hear  that  it  is  not  right  to  wear  purple,  you 
must  go,  I  suppose,  and  roll  your  cloak  in  the  mud, 
or  tear  it.  "  But  how  can  I  have  a  fine  cloak  ?  " 
You  have  water,  man ;  wash  it.  What  an  amiable 
youth  is  here  !  How  worthy  this  old  man,  to  love 
and  be  loved!     A  fit  person  to  be  trusted  with  the 


THE  DISCOUKSES  OP  EPICTETUS.  365 

instruction  of  our  sons  and  daughters,  and  attended 
by  young  people  as  occasion  may  require,  —  to  read 
them  lectures  from  a  dunghill !  Every  deterioration 
takes  its  origin  from  something  human ;  but  this  al- 
most dehumanizes  a  man. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

OP   TAKING  PAINS. 

WHEN  you  cease  to  take  pains  for  a  little  while, 
do  not  fancy  you  may  recommence  whenever 
you  please,  but  remember  this,  that  by  means  of  the 
fault  of  to-day,  your  affairs  must  necessarily  be  in  a 
worse  condition  for  the  future.  The  first  and  worst 
evil  is  that  there  arises  a  habit  of  neglect ;  and  then 
a  habit  of  postponing  effort,  and  constantly  procrasti- 
nating as  to  one's  successes  and  good  behavior  and 
orderly  thought  and  action.  Now  if  procrastination 
as  to  anything  is  advantageous,  it  must  be  still  more 
advantageous  to  omit  it  altogether ;  but  if  it  be  not 
advantageous,  why  do  you  not  take  pains  all  the 
time?  "  I  would  play  to-day.''  What  then  ?  Ought 
you  not  to  take  proper  pains  about  it  ?  "I  would 
sing."  But  why  not  take  proper  pains  about  it? 
For  there  is  no  part  of  life  exempted,  about  which 
pains  are  not  needed.  For  will  you  do  anything  the 
worse  by  taking  pains,  and  the  better  by  neglect? 
What  else  in  life  is  best  performed  by  heedless  peo- 
ple ?  Does  a  smith  forge  the  better  by  heedlessness  ? 
Does  a  pilot  steer  more  safely  by  heedlessness  ?  Or 
is  any  other,  even  of  the  minutest  operations,  best 
performed  heedlessly?    Do  you  not  perceive  that, 


366  THE   DISCOURSES   OF   EPICTETUS. 

when  you  have  let  your  mind  loose,  it  is  no  longer  in 
your  power  to  call  it  back,  either  to  propriety,  or 
modesty,  or  moderation?  But  you  do  everything 
at  haphazard;  you  merely  follow  your  inclinations. 
"  To  what,  then,  am  I  to  direct  my  pains.,, 
Why,  in  the  first  place,  to  those  universal  max- 
ims which  you  must  always  have  at  hand ;  and  not 
sleep,  or  arise,  or  drink,  or  eat,  or  converse  without 
them :  —  that  no  one  is  the  master  of  another's  will ; 
and  that  it  is  in  the  will  alone  that  good  and  evil  lie. 
No  one,  therefore,  is  my  master,  either  to  procure  me 
any  good,  or  to  involve  me  in  any  evil ;  but  I  alone 
have  the  disposal  of  myself  with  regard  to  these 
things.  Since  these,  then,  are  secured  to  me,  what 
need  have  I  to  be  troubled  about  externals  ?  What 
tyrant  is  formidable?  What  disease?  What  pov- 
erty ?  What  offence  ?  "I  have  not  pleased  such  a 
one."  Is  he  my  concern  then  ?  Is  he  my  con- 
science? "No."  Why,  then,  do  I  trouble  myself 
any  further  about  him  ?  "  But  he  is  thought  to  be  of 
some  consequence."  Let  him  look  to  that ;  and  they 
who  think  him  so.  But  I  have  One  whom  I  must 
please,  to  whom  I  must  submit,  whom  I  must  obey  ; 
God,  and  those  who  surround  Him.  He  has  in- 
trusted me  with  myself,  and  made  my  will  subject 
to  myself  alone,  having  given  me  rules  for  the  right 
use  of  it.  If  I  follow  the  proper  rules  in  syllogisms, 
in  convertible  propositions,  I  do  not  heed  or  regard 
any  one  who  says  anything  contrary  to  them.  Why, 
then,  am  I  vexed  at  being  censured  in  matters  of 
greater  consequence?  What  is  the  reason  of  this 
perturbation  ?  Nothing  else,  but  that  in  this  instance 
I  want  practice.  For  every  science  despises  igno- 
rance and  the  ignorant ;  and  not  only  the  sciences, 


THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS.  367 

but  even  the  arts.  Take  any  shoemaker,  take  any 
smith  you  will,  and  he  may  laugh  at  the  rest  of  the 
world,  so  far  as  his  own  business  is  concerned. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  these  are  the  maxims  we 
must  have  ready,  and  do  nothing  without  them,  but 
direct  the  soul  to  this  mark.  To  pursue  nothing  ex- 
ternal, nothing  that  belongs  to  others,  but  as  He  who 
hath  the  power  hath  appointed.  Things  controllable 
by  will  are  to  be  pursued  always ;  and  the  rest  as 
may  be  permitted.  Besides  this,  we  must  remember 
who  we  are,  and  what  name  we  bear,  endeavoring 
to  use  all  the  circumstances  of  life  in  their  proper  re- 
lations ;  what  is  the  proper  time  for  singing,  what 
for  play,  and  in  what  company ;  what  will  be  the 
consequence  of  our  performance ;  whether  our  com- 
panions will  despise  us,  or  we  ourselves ;  when  to 
employ  raillery,  and  whom  to  ridicule ;  upon  what 
occasions  to  comply,  and  with  whom ;  and  then,  in 
complying,  how  to  preserve  our  own  character. 

Wherever  you  deviate  from  any  of  these  rules,  the 
damage  is  immediate  ;  not  from  anything  external, 
but  from  the  very  action  itself.  "  What,  then,  is  it 
possible  by  these  means  to  be  faultless  ?  "  Impracti- 
cable ;  but  this  is  possible,  to  use  a  constant  endeavor 
to  be  faultless.  For  we  shall  have  cause  to  be  satis- 
fied, if,  by  never  remitting  our  pains,  we  shall  be 
exempt  at  least  from  a  few  faults.  •  But  now,  when 
you  say  you  will  begin  to  take  pains  to-morrow,  be 
assured  that  it  is  the  same  thing  as  if  you  said,  "  To- 
day I  will  be  shameless,  impertinent,  base,  it  shall  be 
in  the  power  of  others  to  grieve  me  ;  I  will  be  pas- 
sionate, I  will  be  envious  to-day."  See  to  how  many 
evils  you  give  yourself  up.  "  But  all  will  be  well  to- 
morrow. "     How  much  better  to-day  ?     If  it  be  for 


868  THE  DISCOURSES  OF  EPICTETUS. 

your  interest  to-morrow,  how  much  more  to-day,  that 
it  may  be  in  your  power  to-morrow  too,  and  that  you 
may  not  again  defer  it  until  the  third  day. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

CONCERNING   SUCH  AS   ARE  TOO   COMMUNICATIVE. 

WHEN  any  one  appears  to  us  to  discourse  frank- 
ly of  his  own  affairs,  we  too  are  somehow 
tempted  to  disclose  our  secrets  to  him ;  and  we  con- 
sider this  to  be  acting  with  frankness.  First,  because 
it  seems  unfair  that  when  we  have  heard  the  affairs 
of  our  neighbor,  we  should  not  in  return  communi- 
cate ours  to  him ;  and  besides  we  think  that  we  shall 
not  appear  of  a  frank  character,  in  concealing  what 
belongs  to  ourselves.  Indeed  it  is  often  said,  "  I 
have  told  you  all  my  affairs ;  and  will  you  tell  me 
none  of  yours  ?  How  happens  this  ?  "  Lastly,  it  is 
supposed  that  we  may  safely  trust  him  who  has  al- 
ready trusted  us ;  for  we  imagine  that  he  will  never 
discover  our  affairs,  for  fear  we  should  in  turn  dis- 
cover his.  It  is  thus  that  the  inconsiderate  are 
caught  by  the  soldiers  at  Rome.  A  soldier  sits  by 
you  in  a  civilian's  dress,  and  begins  to  speak  ill  of 
Caesar.  Then  you,  as  if  you  had  received  a  pledge 
of  his  fidelity,  by  his  first  beginning  the  abuse,  say 
likewise  what  you  think ;  and  so  you  are  led  away  in 
chains  to  execution. 

Something  like  this  is  the  case  with  us  in  general. 
But  when  one  has  safely  intrusted  his  secrets  to  me, 
shall  I,  in  imitation  of  him,  trust  mine  to  any  one  who 
comes  in  my  way  ?    The  case  is  different.     I  indeed 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  369 

hold  my  tongue  (supposing  me  to  be  of  such  a  dis- 
position) ;  but  he  goes  and  discovers  them  to  every- 
body; and  then,  when  I  come  to  find  it  out,  if  I 
happen  to  be  like  him,  from  a  desire  of  revenge,  I 
discover  his ;  and  asperse  and  am  aspersed.  But  if 
I  remember  that  one  man  does  not  hurt  another,  but 
that  every  one  is  hurt  or  profited  by  his  own  actions, 
I  may  indeed  keep  to  this,  not  to  do  anything  like 
him  ;  yet,  by  my  own  talkative  folly,  I  suffer  what  I 
do  suffer. 

"  Ay ;  but  it  is  unfair,  when  you  have  heard  the 
secrets  of  your  neighbor,  not  to  communicate  any- 
thing to  him  in  return. "  Why,  did  I  ask  you  to  do 
it,  sir  ?  Did  you  tell  me  your  affairs  upon  condition 
that  I  should  tell  you  mine  in  return  ?  If  you  are  a 
gossip,  and  take  all  you  meet  for  friends,  would  you 
have  me  too  become  like  you  ?  But  what  if  the  case 
be  this  ;  that  you  did  right  in  trusting  your  affairs  to 
me,  but  it  is  not  right  that  I  should  trust  you? 
Would  you  have  me  run  headlong,  and  fall  ?  This 
is  just  as  if  I  had  a  sound  barrel,  and  you  a  leaky 
one ;  and  you  should  come  and  deposit  your  wine 
with  me,  to  be  put  into  my  barrel ;  and  then  should 
take  it  ill,  that,  in  my  turn,  I  did  not  trust  you 
with  my  wine.  No.  You  have  a  leaky  barrel.  How, 
then,  are  we  any  longer  upon  equal  terms  ?  You 
have  intrusted  your  affairs  to  an  honest  man,  and  a 
man  of  honor  ;  one  who  finds  his  help  or  harm  in  his 
own  actions  alone,  and  in  nothing  external.  Would 
you  have  me  intrust  mine  to  you,  who  have  dis- 
honored your  own  will,  and  who  would  get  a  paltry 
sum,  or  a  post  of  power  or  preferment  at  court, 
even  if  it  required  you  to  kill  your  own  children,  like 
Medea  ?     Where  is  the  fairness  in  this  ?     But  show 

24 


370  THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS. 

me  that  you  are  faithful,  honorable,  steady ;  show 
me  that  you  have  principles  conducive  to  friendship ; 
show  me  that  your  vessel  is  not  leaky,  and  you  shall 
see  that  I  will  not  wait  for  you  to  intrust  your  affairs 
to  me,  but  I  will  come  and  entreat  you  to  hear  mine. 
For  who  would  not  make  use  of  a  good  vessel  ?  Who 
despises  a  benevolent  and  friendly  adviser  ?  Who  will 
not  gladly  receive  one  to  share  the  burden,  as  it  were, 
of  his  difficulties  ;  and  by  sharing,  to  make  it  lighter  ? 
"  Well ;  but  I  trust  you,  and  you  do  not  trust  me." 
In  the  first  place,  you  do  not  really  trust  me  ;  but 
you  are  a  gossip,  and  therefore  can  keep  nothing  in. 
For  if  the  former  be  the  case,  trust  only  me.  But 
now,  whenever  you  see  a  man  at  leisure,  you  sit 
down  by  him,  and  say :  "  My  dear  friend,  there  is 
not  a  man  in  the  world  who  wishes  me  better,  or  has 
more  kindness  for  me,  than  you;  I  entreat  you  to 
hear  my  affairs."  And  this  you  do  to  those  with 
whom  you  have  not  the  least  acquaintance.  But  if 
you  do  trust  me,  it  is  plainly  as  a  man  of  fidelity  and 
honor,  and  not  because  I  have  told  you  my  affairs. 
Let  me  alone,  then,  till  I  reciprocate  this  opinion. 
Convince  me  that,  if  a  person  has  told  his  affairs  to 
any  one,  it  is  a  proof  of  his  being  a  man  of  fidelity 
and  honor.  For  if  this  were  the  case,  I  would  go 
about  and  tell  my  affairs  to  the  whole  world,  if  I 
could  thus  become  a  man  of  fidelity  and  honor.  But 
that  is  no  such  matter ;  for  it  demands  of  a  man  to 
have  no  ordinary  principles. 

If,  then,  you  see  any  one  taking  pains  for  things 
that  belong  to  others,  and  subjecting  his  will  to  them, 
be  assured  that  this  man  has  a  thousand  things  to 
compel  and  restrain  him.  He  has  no  need  of  burn- 
ing pitch,  or  the  torturing  wheel,  to  make  him  tell 


THE  DISCOURSES   OF  EPICTETUS.  371 

what  he  knows  ;  but  the  nod  of  a  girl,  for  instance, 
will  shake  his  purpose ;  the  good-will  of  a  courtier, 
the  desire  of  an  office,  of  an  inheritance ;  ten  thou- 
sand other  things  of  that  sort.  It  must  therefore  be 
remembered  in  general,  that  confidential  discourses 
require  fidelity  and  a  certain  sort  of  principles.  And 
where,  at  this  time,  are  these  easily  to  be  found? 
Pray  let  any  one  show  me  a  person  of  such  a  disposi- 
tion as  to  say,  I  concern  myself  only  for  those  things 
which  are  my  own,  incapable  of  restraint,  and  by 
nature  free.  This  I  esteem  the  essence  of  good. 
Let  the  rest  be  as  it  may  happen ;  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence to  me. 


THE  ENCHIRIDION,  OR  MANUAL. 


THE   ENCHIRIDION. 


THERE  are  things  which  are  within  our  power, 
and  there  are  things  which  are  beyond  our 
power.  Within  our  power  are  opinion,  aim,  desire, 
aversion,  and,  in  one  word,  whatever  affairs  are  our 
own.  Beyond  our  power  are  body,  property,  reputa- 
tion, office,  and,  in  one  word,  whatever  are  not  prop- 
erly our  own  affairs. 

Now  the  things  within  our  power  are  by  nature 
free,  unrestricted,  unhindered  ;  but  those  beyond  our 
power  are  weak,  dependent,  restricted,  alien.  Re- 
member then,  that,  if  you  attribute  freedom  to  things 
by  nature  dependent,  and  take  what  belongs  to  oth- 
ers for  your  own ;  you  will  be  hindered,  you  will 
lament,  you  will  be  disturbed,  you  will  find  fault 
both  with  Gods  and  men.  But  if  you  take  for  your 
own  only  that  which  is  your  own,  and  view  what  be- 
longs to  others  just  as  it  really  is,  then  no  one  will 
ever  compel  you,  no  one  will  restrict  you,  you  will 
find  fault  with  no  one,  you  will  accuse  no  one,  you 
will  do  nothing  against  your  will;  no  one  will  hurt 
you,  you  will  not  have  an  enemy,  nor  will  you  suffer 
any  harm. 

Aiming  therefore  at  such  great  things,  remember 
that  you  must  not  allow  yourself  any  inclination, 
however  slight,  towards  the  attainment  of  the  others ; 
but  that  you  must  entirely  quit  some  of  them,  and 


376  THE   ENCHIRIDION. 

for  the  present  postpone  the  rest.  But  if  you  would 
have  these,  and  possess  power  and  wealth  likewise, 
you  may  miss  the  latter  in  seeking  the  former ;  and 
you  will  certainly  fail  of  that,  by  which  alone  happi- 
ness and  freedom  are  procured. 

Seek  at  once,  therefore,  to  be  able  to  say  to  every 
unpleasing  semblance, "  You  are  but  a  semblance  and 
by  no  means  the  real  thing.' '  And  then  examine  it 
by  those  rules  which  you  have  ;  and  first  and  chiefly, 
by  this:  whether  it  concerns  the  things  which  are 
within  our  own  power,  or  those  which  are  not ;  and 
if  it  concerns  anything  beyond  our  power,  be  pre- 
pared to  say  that  it  is  nothing  to  you. 

II. 

Remember  that  desire  demands  the  attainment  of 
that  of  which  you  are  desirous ;  and  aversion  de- 
mands the  avoidance  of  that  to  which  you  are  averse ; 
that  he  who  fails  of  the  object  of  his  desires,  is  disap- 
pointed ;  and  he  who  incurs  the  object  of  his  aver- 
sion, is  wretched.  If,  then,  you  shun  only  those 
undesirable  things  which  you  can  control,  you  will 
never  incur  anything  which  you  shun.  But  if  you 
shun  sickness,  or  death,  or  poverty,  you  will  run 
the  risk  of  wretchedness.  Remove  aversion,  then, 
from  all  things  that  are  not  within  our  power,  and 
transfer  it  to  things  undesirable,  which  are  within 
our  power.  But  for  the  present  altogether  restrain 
desire ;  for  if  you  desire  any  of  the  things  not  within 
our  own  power,  you  must  necessarily  be  disappointed ; 
and  you  are  not  yet  secure  of  those  which  are  within 
our  power,  and  so  are  legitimate  objects  of  desire. 
Where  it  is  practically  necessary  for  you  to  pursue 
or  avoid  anything,  do  even  this  with  discretion,  and 
gentleness,  and  moderation. 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  377 

in. 

With  regard  to  whatever  objects  either  delight  the 
mind,  or  contribute  to  use,  or  are  tenderly  beloved, 
remind  yourself  of  what  nature  they  are,  beginning 
with  the  merest  trifles:  if  you  have  a  favorite  cup, 
that  it  is  a  cup  of  which  you  are  fond ;  for  thus,  if  it 
is  broken,  you  can  bear  it:  if  you  embrace  your 
child,  or  your  wife,  that  you  embrace  a  mortal ;  and 
thus,  if  either  of  them  dies,  you  can  bear  it. 

IV. 
When  you  set  about  any  action,  remind  yourself 
of  what  nature  the  action  is.  If  you  are  going  to 
bathe,  represent  to  yourself  the  incidents  usual  in 
the  bath ;  some  persons  pouring  out,  others  pushing 
in,  others  scolding,  others  pilfering.  And  thus  you 
will  more  safely  go  about  this  action,  if  you  say  to 
yourself,  "  I  will  now  go  to  bathe,  and  keep  my  own 
will  in  harmony  with  nature.''  And  so  with  regard 
to  every  other  action.  For  thus,  if  any  impediment 
arises  in  bathing,  you  will  be  able  to  say,  "It  was  not 
only  to  bathe  that  I  desired,  but  to  keep  my  will  in 
harmony  with  nature ;  and  I  shall  not  keep  it  thus, 
if  I  am  out  of  humor  at  things  that  happen." 

V. 

Men  are  disturbed  not  by  things,  but  by  the  views 
which  they  take  of  things.  Thus  death  is  nothing 
terrible,  else  it  would  have  appeared  so  to  Socrates. 
But  the  terror  consists  in  our  notion  of  death,  that  it 
is  terrible.  When,  therefore,  we  are  hindered,  or 
disturbed,  or  grieved,  let  us  never  impute  it  to  oth- 
ers, but  to  ourselves ;  that  is,  to  our  own  views.  It 
is  the  action  of  an  uninstructed  person  to  reproach 


378  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

others  for  his  own  misfortunes  ;  of  one  entering  upon 
instruction,  to  reproach  himself;  and  of  one  perfectly 
instructed,  to  reproach  neither  others  nor  himself. 

VI. 

Be  not  elated  at  any  excellence  not  your  own.  If 
a  horse  should  be  elated,  and  say, "  I  am  handsome," 
it  might  be  endurable.  But  when  you  are  elated, 
and  say,  "  I  have  a  handsome  horse,"  know  that  you 
are  elated  only  on  the  merit  of  the  horse.  What, 
then,  is  your  own  ?  The  use  of  the  phenomena  of 
existence.  So  that  when  you  are  in  harmony  with 
nature  in  this  respect,  you  will  be  elated  with  some 
reason ;  for  you  will  be  elated  at  some  good  of  your 
own. 

vn. 

As  in  a  voyage,  when  the  ship  is  at  anchor,  if  you 
go  on  shore  to  get  water,  you  may  amuse  yourself 
with  picking  up  a  shell-fish  or  a  truffle  in  your  way  ; 
but  your  thoughts  ought  to  be  bent  towards  the  ship, 
and  perpetually  attentive,  lest  the  captain  should 
call ;  and  then  you  must  leave  all  these  things,  that 
you  may  not  have  to  be  carried  on  board  the  vessel, 
bound  like  a  sheep.  Thus  likewise  in  life,  if,  instead 
of  a  truffle  or  shell-fish,  such  a  thing  as  a  wife  or  a 
child  be  granted  you,  there  is  no  objection  ;  but  if 
the  captain  calls,  run  to  the  ship,  leave  all  these 
things,  and  never  look  behind.  But  if  you  are  old, 
never  go  far  from  the  ship,  lest  you  should  be  miss- 
ing when  called  for. 

vin. 
Demand  not  that  events   should  happen  as  you 
wish ;  but  wish  them  to  happen  as  they  do  happen, 
and  you  will  go  on  well. 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  379 

IX. 

Sickness  is  an  impediment  to  the  body,  but  not  to 
the  will,  unless  itself  pleases.  Lameness  is  an  imped- 
iment to  the  leg,  but  not  to  the  will ;  and  say  this  to 
yourself  with  regard  to  everything  that  happens. 
For  you  will  find  it  to  be  an  impediment  to  some- 
thing else,  but  not  truly  to  yourself. 

x. 

Upon  every  accident,  remember  to  turn  towards 
yourself  and  inquire  what  faculty  you  have  for  its 
use.  If  you  encounter  a  handsome  person,  you  will 
find  continence  the  faculty  needed  ;  if  pain,  then  for- 
titude ;  if  reviling,  then  patience.  And  when  thus 
habituated,  the  phenomena  of  existence  will  not  over- 
whelm you. 

XL     ' 

Never  say  of  anything,  "  I  have  lost  it";  but,  " I 
have  restored  it."  Has  your  child  died  ?  It  is  re- 
stored. Has  your  wife  died  ?  She  is  restored.  Has 
your  estate  been  taken  away  ?  That  likewise  is  re- 
stored. "  But  it  was  a  bad  man  who  took  it."  What 
is  it  to  you,  by  whose  hands  He  who  gave  it  hath 
demanded  it  again  ?  While  He  permits  you  to  pos- 
sess it,  hold  it  as  something  not  your  own;  as  do 
travellers  at  an  inn. 

XII. 

If  you  would  improve,  lay  aside  such  reasonings 
as  these :  "  If  I  neglect  my  affairs,  I  shall  not  have 
a  maintenance ;  if  I  do  not  punish  my  servant,  he 
will  be  good  for  nothing."  For  it  were  better  to  die 
of  hunger,  exempt  from  grief  and  fear,  than  to  live 
in  affluence  with  perturbation  ;  and  it  is  better  that 
your  servant  should  be  bad  than  you  unhappy. 


380  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

Begin  therefore  with  little  things.  Is  a  little  oil 
spilt  or  a  little  wine  stolen  ?  Say  to  yourself,  "  This 
is  the  price  paid  for  peace  and  tranquillity ;  and  noth- 
ing is  to  be  had  for  nothing."  And  when  you  call 
your  servant,  consider  that  it  is  possible  he  may  not 
come  at  your  call ;  or,  if  he  does,  that  he  may  not  do 
what  you  wish.  But  it  is  not  at  all  desirable  for  him, 
and  very  undesirable  for  you,  that  it  should  be  in  his 
power  to  cause  you  any  disturbance. 

xm. 
If  you  would  improve,  be  content  to  be  thought 
foolish  and  dull  with  regard  to  externals.  Do  not 
desire  to  be  thought  to  know  anything  ;  and  though 
you  should  appear  to  others  to  be  somebody,  distrust 
yourself.  For  be  assured,  it  is  not  easy  at  once  to 
keep  your  will  in  harmony  with  nature,  and  to  secure 
externals ;  but  while  you  are  absorbed  in  the  one, 
you  must  of  necessity  neglect  the  other. 

XIV. 
If  you  wish  your  children,  and  your  wife,  and  your 
friends,  to  live  forever,  you  are  foolish  ;  for  you  wish 
things  to  be  in  your  power  which  are  not  so ;  and 
what  belongs  to  others,  to  be  your  own.  So  likewise, 
if  you  wish  your  servant  to  be  without  fault,  you  are 
foolish ;  for  you  wish  vice  not  to  be  vice,  but  some- 
thing else.  But  if  you  wish  not  to  be  disappointed 
in  your  desires,  that  is  in  your  own  power.  Exer- 
cise, therefore,  what  is  in  your  power.  A  man's  mas- 
ter is  he  who  is  able  to  confer  or  remove  whatever 
that  man  seeks  or  shuns.  Whoever  then  would  be 
free,  let  him  wish  nothing,  let  him  decline  nothing, 
which  depends  on  others ;  else  he  must  necessarily 
be  a  slave. 


THE   ENCHIRIDION.  381 

XV. 

Remember  that  you  must  behave  as  at  a  banquet. 
Is  anything  brought  round  to  you  ?  Put  out  your 
hand,  and  take  a  moderate  share.  Does  it  pass  by 
you  ?  Do  not  stop  it.  Is  it  not  yet  come  ?  Do  not 
yearn  in  desire  towards  it,  but  wait  till  it  reaches  you. 
So  with  regard  to  children,  wife,  office,  riches  ;  and 
you  will  some  time  or  other  be  worthy  to  feast  with 
the  Gods.  And  if  you  do  not  so  much  as  take  the 
things  which  are  set  before  you,  but  are  able  even  to 
forego  them,  then  you  will  not  only  be  worthy  to 
feast  with  the  Gods,  but  to  rule  with  them  also.  For, 
by  thus  doing,  Diogenes  and  Heraclitus,  and  others 
like  them,  deservedly  became  divine,  and  were  so 
recognized. 

XVI. 

When  you  see  any  one  weeping  for  grief,  either 
that  his  son  has  gone  abroad,  or  that  he  has  suffered 
in  his  affairs ;  take  care  not  to  be  overcome  by  the 
apparent  evil.  But  discriminate,  and  be  ready  to 
say,  "  What  hurts  this  man  is  not  this  occurrence 
itself,  for  another  man  might  not  be  hurt  by  it ;  — 
but  the  view  he  chooses  to  take  of  it."  As  far  as  con- 
versation goes,  however,  do  not  disdain  to  accommo- 
date yourself  to  him,  and  if  need  be,  to  groan  with 
him.  Take  heed,  however,  not  to  groan  inwardly 
too. 

XVH. 

Remember  that  you  are  an  actor  in  a  drama  of 
such  sort  as  the  author  chooses.  If  short,  then  in  a 
short  one  ;  if  long,  then  in  a  long  one.  If  it  be  his 
pleasure  that  you  should  act  a  poor  man,  see  that 
you  act  it  well;  or  a  cripple,  or  a  ruler,  or  a  pri- 


382  THE  ENCHIKIDION. 

vate  citizen.     For  this  is  your  business,  to  act  well 
the  given  part ;  but  to  choose  it,  belongs  to  another. 

xvni. 

* 

When  a  raven  happens  to  croak  unluckily,  be  not 
overcome  by  appearances,  but  discriminate,  and  say, 
"  Nothing  is  portended  to  me ;  but  either  to  my  pal- 
try body,  or  property,  or  reputation,  or  children,  or 
wife.  But  to  me  all  portents  are  lucky,  if  I  will. 
For  whatsoever  happens,  it  belongs  to  me  to  derive 
advantage  therefrom.' ' 

XIX. 

You  can  be  unconquerable,  if  you  enter  into  no 
combat,  in  which  it  is  not  in  your  own  power  to  con- 
quer. When,  therefore,  you  see  any  one  eminent  in 
honors  or  power,  or  in  high  esteem  on  any  other  ac- 
count, take  heed  not  to  be  bewildered  by  appearances 
and  to  pronounce  him  happy  ;  for  if  the  essence  of 
good  consists  in  things  within  our  own  power,  there 
will,  be  no  room  for  envy  or  emulation.  But,  for 
your  part,  do  not  desire  to  be  a  general,  or  a  senator, 
or  a  consul,  but  to  be  free  ;  and  the  only  way  to  this 
is,  a  disregard  of  things  which  lie  not  within  our  own 
power. 

XX. 

Remember  that  it  is  not  he  who  gives  abuse  or 
blows  who  affronts ;  but  the  view  we  take  of  these 
things  as  insulting.  When,  therefore,  any  one  pro- 
vokes you,  be  assured  that  it  is  your  own  opinion 
which  provokes  you.  Try,  therefore,  in  the  first 
place,  not  to  be  bewildered  by  appearances.  For  if 
you  once  gain  time  and  respite,  you  will  more  easily 
command  yourself. 


THE   ENCHIRIDION.  383 

XXI. 

Let  death  and  exile,  and  all  other  things  which 
appear  terrible,  be  daily  before  your  eyes,  but  death 
chiefly ;  and  you  will  never  entertain  any  abject 
thought,  nor  too  eagerly  covet  anything. 

XXII. 

If  you  have  an  earnest  desire  towards  philosophy, 
prepare  yourself  from  the  very  first  to  have  the  mul- 
titude laugh  and  sneer,  and  say,  "  He  is  returned  to 
us  a  philosopher  all  at  once  " ;  and  "  Whence  this 
supercilious  look  ?  "  Now  for  your  part,  do  not  have 
a  supercilious  look  indeed ;  but  keep  steadily  to  those 
things  which  appear  best  to  you,  as  one  appointed  by 
God  to  this  particular  station.  For  remember  that, 
if  you  are  persistent,  those  very  persons  who  at  first 
ridiculed,  will  afterwards  admire  you.  But  if  you 
are  conquered  by  them,  you  will  incur  a  double 
ridicule. 

XXIII. 
If  you  ever  happen  to  turn  your  attention  to  exter- 
nals, for  the  pleasure  of  any  one,  be  assured  that  you 
have  ruined  your  scheme  of  life.  Be  contented,  then, 
in  everything,  with  being  a  philosopher ;  and,  if  you 
wish  to  seem  so  likewise  to  any  one,  appear  so  to 
yourself,  and  it  will  suffice  you. 

XXIV. 
Let  not  such  considerations  as  these  distress  you : 
"  I  shall  live  in  discredit,  and  be  nobody  anywhere." 
For  if  discredit  be  an  evil,  you  can  no  more  be  in- 
volved in  evil  through  another,  than  in  baseness.  Is 
it  any  business  of  yours,  then,  to  get  power,  or  to  be 
admitted  to  an  entertainment  ?    By  no  means.     How 


384  THE   ENCHIRIDION. 

then,  after  all,  is  this  discredit  ?  And  how  is  it  true 
that  you  will  be  nobody  anywhere  ;  when  you  ought 
to  be  somebody  in  those  things  only  which  are  within 
your  own  power,  in  which  you  may  be  of  the  great- 
est consequence  ?  "  But  my  friends  will  be  unas- 
sisted." What  do  you  mean  by  unassisted  ?  They 
will  not  have  money  from  you ;  nor  will  you  make 
them  Roman  citizens.  Who  told  you,  then,  that 
these  are  among  the  things  within  our  own  power; 
and  not  rather  the  aifairs  of  others  ?  And  who  can 
give  to  another  the  things  which  he  himself  has  not  ? 
"  Well,  but  get  them,  then,  that  we  too  may  have  a 
share."  If  I  can  get  them  with  the  preservation  of 
my  own  honor,  and  fidelity,  and  self-respect,  show 
me  the  way,  and  I  will  get  them  ;  but  if  you  require 
me  to  lose  my  own  proper  good,  that  you  may  gain 
what  is  no  good,  consider  how  unreasonable  and  fool- 
ish you  are.  Besides,  which  would  you  rather  have, 
a  sum  of  money,  or  a  faithful  and  honorable  friend  ? 
Rather  assist  me,  then,  to  gain  this  character,  than 
require  me  to  do  those  things  by  which  I  may  lose 
it.  Well,  but  my  country,  say  you,  as  far  as  depends 
upon  me,  will  be  unassisted.  Here  again,  what  as- 
sistance is  this  you  mean  ?  It  will  not  have  porticos 
nor  baths  of  your  providing?  And  what  signifies 
that?  Why,  neither  does  a  smith  provide  it  with 
shoes,  nor  a  shoemaker  with  arms.  It  is  enough  if 
every  one  fully  performs  his  own  proper  business. 
And  were  you  to  supply  it  with  another  faithful  and 
honorable  citizen,  would  not  he  be  of  use  to  it? 
Yes.  Therefore  neither  are  you  yourself  useless  to 
it.  "What  place  then,"  say  you,  "shall  I  hold  in 
the  state  ?  "  Whatever  you  can  hold  with  the  pres- 
ervation of  your  fidelity  and  honor.     But  if,  by  de- 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  385 

siring  to  be  useful  to  that,  you  lose  these,  how  can 
you  serve  your  country,  when  you  have  become  faith- 
less and  shameless  ? 

XXV. 

Is  any  one  preferred  before  you  at  an  entertain- 
ment, or  in  courtesies,  or  in  confidential  intercourse  ? 
If  these  things  are  good,  you  ought  to  rejoice  that  he 
has  them ;  and  if  they  are  evil,  do  not  be  grieved 
that  you  have  them  not.  And  remember  that  you 
cannot  be  permitted  to  rival  others  in  externals,  with- 
out using  the  same  means  to  obtain  them.  For  how 
can  he,  who  will  not  haunt  the  door  of  any  man,  will 
not  attend  him,  will  not  praise  him,  have  an  equal 
share  with  him  who  does  these  things  ?  You  are 
unjust,  then,  and  unreasonable,  if  you  are  unwilling 
to  pay  the  price  for  which  these  things  are  sold,  and 
would  have  them  for  nothing.  For  how  much  are 
lettuces  sold  ?  An  obolus,  for  instance.  If  another, 
then,  paying  an  obolus  takes  the  lettuces,  and  you, 
not  paying  it,  go  without  them,  do  not  imagine  that 
he  has  gained  any  advantage  over  you.  For  as  he 
has  the  lettuces,  so  you  have  the  obolus  which  you 
did  not  give.  So,  in  the  present  case,  you  have  not 
been  invited  to  such  a  person's  entertainment;  be- 
cause you  have  not  paid  him  the  price  for  which  a 
supper  is  sold.  It  is  sold  for  praise  ;  it  is  sold  for 
attendance.  Give  him,  then,  the  value,  if  it  be  for 
your  advantage.  But  if  you  would  at  the  same  time 
not  pay  the  one,  and  yet  receive  the  other,  you  are 
unreasonable  and  foolish.  Have  you  nothing,  then, 
in  place  of  the  supper  ?  Yes,  indeed  you  have  ;  not 
to  praise  him  whom  you  do  not  like  to  praise ;  not 
to  bear  the  insolence  of  his  lackeys. 

25 


386  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

XXVI. 

The  will  of  Nature  may  be  learned  from  things 
upon  which  we  are  all  agreed.  As,  when  our  neigh- 
bor's boy  has  broken  a  cup,  or  the  like,  we  are  ready 
at  once  to  say,  "  These  are  casualties  that  will  hap- 
pen." Be  assured,  then,  that  when  your  own  cup 
is  likewise  broken,  you  ought  to  be  affected  just  as 
when  another's  cup  was  broken.  Now  apply  this  to 
greater  things.  Is  the  child  or  wife  of  another  dead  ? 
There  is  no  one  who  would  not  say,  "  This  is  an  ac- 
cident of  mortality."  But  if  any  one's  own  child 
happens  to  die,  it  is  immediately, "  Alas  !  how  wretch- 
ed am  I !  "  It  should  be  always  remembered  how  we 
are  affected  on  hearing  the  same  thing  concerning 
others. 

XXVII. 

As  a  mark  *  is  not  set  up  for  the  sake  of  missing 
the  aim,  so  neither  does  the  nature  of  evil  exist  in 
the  world. 

xxvni. 

If  a  person  had  delivered  up  your  body  to  some 
passer-by,  you  would  certainly  be  angry.  And  do 
you  feel  no  shame  in  delivering  up  your  own  mind 
to  any  reviler,  to  be  disconcerted  and  confounded  ? 

XXTX.t 


Duties  are  universally  measured  by  relations.  Is 
a  certain  man  your  father  ?    In  this  are  implied,  tak- 

*  Happiness,  the  effect  of  virtue,  is  the  mark  which  God  hath  set 
up  for  us  to  aim  at.  Our  missing  it  is  no  work  of  His  ;  nor  so  prop- 
erly anything  real,  as  a  mere  negative  and  failure  of  our  own.  —  C. 

t  This  chapter,  except  some  very  trifling  differences,  is  the  same 
with  the  fifteenth  of  the  third  book  of  the  Discourses,  and  therefore 
unnecessary  to  be  repeated  here.  —  C. 


THE   ENCHIRIDION.  387 

ing  care  of  him ;  submitting  to  him  in  all  things  ; 
patiently  receiving  his  reproaches,  his  correction. 
But  he  is  a  bad  father.  Is  your  natural  tie,  then,  to 
a  good  father  ?  No,  but  to  a  father.  Is  a  brother  un- 
just ?  '  Well,  preserve  your  own  just  relation  towards 
him.  Consider  not  what  he  does  ;  but  what  you  are 
to  do,  to  keep  your  own  will  in  a  state  conformable 
to  nature.  For  another  cannot  hurt  you,  unless  you 
please.  You  will  then  be  hurt  when  you  consent  to 
be  hurt.  In  this  manner,  therefore,  if  you  accustom 
yourself  to  contemplate  the  relations  of  neighbor, 
citizen,  commander,  you  can  deduce  from  each  the 
corresponding  duties. 

XXXI. 

Be  assured  that  the  essence  of  piety  towards  the 
Gods  lies  in  this,  to  form  right  opinions  concerning 
them,  as  existing,  and  as  governing  the  universe 
justly  and  well.  And  fix  yourself  in  this  resolution, 
to  obey  them,  and  yield  to  them,  and  willingly  follow 
them  amidst  all  events,  as  being  ruled  by  the  most 
perfect  wisdom.  For  thus  you  will  never  find  fault 
with  the  Gods,  nor  accuse  them  of  neglecting  you. 
And  it  is  not  possible  for  this  to  be  effected  in  any 
other  way,  than  by  withdrawing  yourself  from  things 
which  are  not  within  our  own  power,  and  by  making 
good  or  evil  to  consist  only  in  those  which  are.  For 
if  you  suppose  any  other  things  to  be  either  good  or 
evil,  it  is  inevitable  that,  when  you  are  disappointed 
of  what  you  wish,  or  incur  what  you  would  avoid, 
you  should  reproach  and  blame  their  authors.  For 
every  creature  is  naturally  formed  to  flee  and  abhor 
things  that  appear  hurtful,  and  that  which  causes 
them ;  and  to  pursue  and  admire  those  which  appear 


388  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

beneficial,  and  that  which  causes  them.  It  is  imprac- 
ticable, then,  that  one  who  supposes  himself  to  be 
hurt,  should  rejoice  in  the  person  who,  as  he  thinks, 
hurts  him ;  just  as  it  is  impossible  to  rejoice  in  the 
hurt  itself.  Hence,  also,  a  father  is  reviled  by  his 
son,  when  he  does  not  impart  the  things  which  seem 
to  be  good ;  and  this  made  Polynices  and  Eteocles 
mutually  enemies,  that  empire  seemed  good  to  both. 
On  this  account  the  husbandman  reviles  the  Gods ;  — 
the  sailor,  the  merchant,  or  those  who  have  lost  wife 
or  child.  For  where  our  interest  is,  there  too  is  piety 
directed.  So  that  whoever  is  careful  to  regulate  his 
desires  and  aversions  as  he  ought,  is  thus  made 
careful  of  piety  likewise.  But  it  also  becomes  in- 
cumbent on  every  one  to  offer  libations,  and  sacri- 
fices, and  first-fruits,  according  to  the  customs  of  his 
country,  purely,  and  not  heedlessly  nor  negligently  ; 
not  avariciously,  nor  yet  extravagantly. 

XXXTT. 

When  you  have  recourse  to  divination,  remember 
that  you  know  not  what  the  event  will  be,  and  you 
come  to  learn  it  of  the  diviner ;  but  of  what  nature  it 
is  you  knew  before  coming  ;  at  least,  if  you  are  of 
philosophic  mind.  For  if  it  is  among  the  things  not 
within  our  own  power,  it  can  by  no  means  be  either 
good  or  evil.  Do  not,  therefore,  bring  with  you  to 
the  diviner  either  desire  or  aversion,  —  else  you  will 
approach  him  trembling,  —  but  first  clearly  under- 
stand, that  every  event  is  indifferent,  and  nothing  to 
you,  of  whatever  sort  it  may  be ;  for  it  will  be  in 
your  power  to  make  a  right  use  of  it,  and  this  no  one 
can  hinder.  Then  come  with  confidence  to  the  Gods 
as  your  counsellors ;  and  afterwards,  when  any  coun- 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  389 

sel  is  given  you,  remember  what  counsellors  you  have 
assumed,  and  whose  advice  you  will  neglect,  if  you 
disobey.  Come  to  divination,  as  Socrates  prescribed, 
in  cases  of  which  the  whole  consideration  relates  to 
the  event,  and  in  which  no  opportunities  are  afforded 
by  reason,  or  any  other  art,  to  discover  the  matter  in 
view.  When,  therefore,  it  is  our  duty  to  share  the 
danger  of  a  friend  or  of  our  country,  we  ought  not  to 
consult  the  oracle  as  to  whether  we  shall  share  it  with 
them  or  not.  For  though  the  diviner  should  forewarn 
you  that  the  auspices  are  unfavorable,  this  means  no 
more  than  that  either  death  or  mutilation  or  exile  is 
portended.  But  we  have  reason  within  us  ;  and  it 
directs  us,  even  with  these  hazards,  to  stand  by  our 
friend  and  our  country.  Attend,  therefore,  to  the 
greater  diviner,  the  Pythian  God,  who  once  cast  out 
of  the  temple  him  who  neglected  to  save  his  friend.* 

xxxin. 

Begin  by  prescribing  to  yourself  some  character 
and  demeanor,  such  as  you  may  preserve  both  alone 
and  in  company. 

Be  mostly  silent ;  or  speak  merely  what  is  needful, 
and  in  few  words.  We  may,  however,  enter  spar- 
ingly into  discourse  sometimes,  when  occasion  calls 
for  it;  but  let  it  not  run  on  any  of  the  common 
subjects,  as  gladiators,  or  horse-races,  or  athletic 
champions,  or  food,  or  drink,  —  the  vulgar  topics  of 
conversation ;  and  especially  not  on  men,  so  as  either 
to  blame,  or  praise,  or  make  comparisons.    If  you  are 

*  This  refers  to  an  anecdote  given  in  full  by  Simplicius,  in  his 
commentary  on  this  passage,  of  a  man  assaulted  and  killed,  on  his 
way  to  consult  the  oracle,  while  his  companion,  deserting  him,  took 
refuge  in  the  temple,  till  cast  out  by  the  Deity.  —  H. 


890  THE   ENCHIRIDION. 

able,  then,  by  your  own  conversation,  bring  over 
that  of  your  company  to  proper  subjects ;  but  if  you 
happen  to  find  yourself  among  strangers,  be  silent. 

Let  not  your  laughter  be  loud,  frequent,  or  abun- 
dant. 

Avoid  taking  oaths,  if  possible,  altogether ;  at  any 
rate,  so  far  as  you  are  able. 

Avoid  public  and  vulgar  entertainments ;  but  if 
ever  an  occasion  calls  you  to  them,  keep  your  atten- 
tion upon  the  stretch,  that  you  may  not  impercepti- 
bly slide  into  vulgarity.  For  be  assured  that  if  a 
person  be  ever  so  pure  himself,  yet,  if  his  companion 
be  corrupted,  he  who  converses  with  him  will  be  cor- 
rupted likewise. 

Provide  things  relating  to  the  body  no  farther  than 
absolute  need  requires ;  as  meat,  drink,  clothing, 
house,  retinue.  But  cut  off  everything  that  looks 
towards  show  and  luxury. 

Before  marriage,  guard  yourself  with  all  your  abil- 
ity from  unlawful  intercourse  with  women ;  yet  be 
not  uncharitable  or  severe  to  those  who  are  led  into 
this,  nor  frequently  boast  that  you  yourself  do  other- 
wise. 

If  any  one  tells  you  that  such  a  person  speaks  ill 
of  you,  do  not  make  excuses  about  what  is  said  of 
you,  but  answer :  "He  was  ignorant  of  my  other 
faults,  else  he  would  not  have  mentioned  these  alone." 

It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  appear  often  at  pub- 
lic spectacles ;  but  if  ever  there  is  a  proper  occasion 
for  you  to  be  there,  do  not  appear  more  solicitous  for 
any  other,  than  for  yourself ;  that  is,  wish  things  to 
be  only  just  as  they  are,  and  only  the  best  man  to 
win ;  for  thus  nothing  will  go  against  you.  But  ab- 
stain entirely  from  acclamations,  and  derision,  and 


THE   ENCHIRIDION.  391 

violent  emotions.  And  when  you  come  away,  do  not 
discourse  a  great  deal  on  what  has  passed,  and  what 
contributes  nothing  to  your  own  amendment.  For  it 
would  appear  by  such  discourse  that  you  were  daz- 
zled by  the  show. 

Be  not  prompt  or  ready  to  attend  private  recita- 
tions ;  but  if  you  do  attend,  preserve  your  gravity 
and  dignity,  and  yet  avoid  making  yourself  disagree- 
able. 

When  you  are  going  to  confer  with  any  one,  and 
especially  with  one  who  seems  your  superior,  repre- 
sent to  yourself  how  Socrates  or  Zeno  would  behave 
in  such  a  case,  and  you  will  not  be  at  a  loss  to  meet 
properly  whatever  may  occur. 

When  you  are  going  before  any  one  in  power, 
fancy  to  yourself  that  you  may  not  find  him  at  home, 
that  you  may  be  shut  out,  that  the  doors  may  not  be 
opened  to  you,  that  he  may  not  notice  you.  If,  with 
all  this,  it  be  your  duty  to  go,  bear  what  happens, 
and  never  say  to  yourself,  "It  was  not  worth  so 
much."  For  this  is  vulgar,  and  like  a  man  bewil- 
dered by  externals. 

In  society,  avoid  a  frequent  and  excessive  mention 
of  your  own  actions  and  dangers.  For  however 
agreeable  it  may  be  to  yourself  to  allude  to  the  risks 
you  have  run,  it  is  not  equally  agreeable  to  others  to 
hear  your  adventures.  Avoid  likewise  an  endeavor 
to  excite  laughter.  For  this  may  readily  slide  you 
into  vulgarity,  and,  besides,  may  be  apt  to  lower  you 
in  the  esteem  of  your  acquaintance.  Approaches  to 
indecent,  discourse  are  likewise  dangerous.  There- 
fore when  anything  of  this  sort  happens,  use  the  first 
fit  opportunity  to  rebuke  him  who  makes  advances 
that  way ;  or,  at  least,  by  silence,  and  blushing,  and 


392  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

a  serious  look,  show  yourself  to  be  displeased  by  such 
talk. 

XXXIV. 

If  you  are  dazzled  by  the  semblance  of  any  prom- 
ised pleasure,  guard  yourself  against  being  bewil- 
dered by  it ;  but  let  the  affair  wait  your  leisure,  and 
procure  yourself  some  delay.  Then  bring  to  your 
mind  both  points  of  time ;  that  in  which  you  shall 
enjoy  the  pleasure,  and  that  in  which  you  will  repent 
and  reproach  yourself,  after  you  have  enjoyed  it ;  and 
set  before  you,  in  opposition  to  these,  how  you  will 
rejoice  and  applaud  yourself,  if  you  abstain.  And 
even  though  it  should  appear  to  you  a  seasonable 
gratification,  take  heed  that  its  enticements  and  al- 
lurements and  seductions  may  not  subdue  you ;  but 
set  in  opposition  to  this,  how  much  better  it  is  to  be 
conscious  of  having  gained  so  great  a  victory. 

XXXV. 

When  you  do  anything  from  a  clear  judgment  that 
it  ought  to  be  done,  never  shrink  from  being  seen  to 
do  it,  even  though  the  world  should  misunderstand 
it ;  for  if  you  are  not  acting  rightly,  shun  the  action 
itself;  if  you  are,  why  fear  those  who  wrongly  cen- 
sure you  ? 

xxxvi 

As  the  proposition,  either  it  is  day,  or  it  is  night, 
has  much  force  in  a  disjunctive  argument,  but  none 
at  all  in  a  conjunctive  one ;  so,  at  a  feast,  to  choose 
the  largest  share,  is  very  suitable  to  the  bodily  appe- 
tite, but  utterly  inconsistent  with  the  social  spirit  of 
the  entertainment.  Remember,  then,  when  you  eat 
with  another,  not  only  the  value  to  the  body  of  those 
things  which  are  set  before  you,  but  also  the  value  of 
proper  courtesy  towards  your  host. 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  393 

XXXV 11. 

If  you  have  assumed  any  character  beyond  your 
strength,  you  have  both  demeaned  yourself  ill  in  that, 
and  quitted  one  which  you  might  have  supported. 

xxxvni. 
As  in  walking  you  take  care  not  to  tread  upon  a 
nail,  or  turn  your  foot,  so  likewise  take  care  not  to 
hurt  the  ruling  faculty  of  your  mind.  And  if  we 
were  to  guard  against  this  in  every  action,  we  should 
enter  upon  action  more  safely. 

XXXIX. 

The  body  is  to  every  one  the  proper  measure  of  its 
possessions,  as  the  foot  is  of  the  shoe.  If,  therefore, 
you  stop  at  this,  you  will  keep  the  measure ;  but  if 
you  move  beyond  it,  you  must  necessarily  be  carried 
forward,  as  down  a  precipice ;  as  in  the  case  of  a 
shoe,  if  you  go  beyond  its  fitness  to  the  foot,  it  comes 
first  to  be  gilded,  then  purple,  and  then  studded  with 
jewels.  For  to  that  which  once  exceeds  the  fit  meas- 
ure there  is  no  bound. 

XL. 
Women  from  fourteen  years  old  are  flattered  by 
men  with  the  title  of  mistresses.  Therefore,  perceiv- 
ing that  they  are  regarded  only  as  qualified  to  give 
men  pleasure,  they  begin  to  adorn  themselves,  and  in 
that  to  place  all  their  hopes.  It  is  worth  while, 
therefore,  to  try  that  they  may  perceive  themselves 
honored  only  so  far  as  they  appear  beautiful  in  their 
demeanor,  and  modestly  virtuous. 


394  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

XLI. 

It  is  a  mark  of  want  of  intellect,  to  spend  much 
time  in  things  relating  to  the  body ;  as  to  be  immod- 
erate in  exercises,  in  eating  and  drinking,  and  in  the 
discharge  of  other  animal  functions.  These  things 
should  be  done  incidentally  and  our  main  strength 
be  applied  to  our  reason. 

XLII. 

When  any  person  does  ill  by  you,  or  speaks  ill  of 
you,  remember  that  he  acts  or  speaks  from  an  im- 
pression that  it  is  right  for  him  to  do  so.  Now,  it  is 
not  possible  that  he  should  follow  what  appears  right 
to  you,  but  only  what  appears  so  to  himself.  There- 
fore, if  he  judges  from  false  appearances,  he  is  the 
person  hurt;  since  he  too  is  the  person  deceived. 
For  if  any  one  takes  a  true  proposition  to  be  false, 
the  proposition  is  not  hurt,  but  only  the  man  is 
deceived.  Setting  out,  then,  from  these  principles, 
you  will  meekly  bear  with  a  person  who  reviles  you ; 
for  you  will  say  upon  every  occasion,  "  It  seemed  so 
to  him." 

xxm. 

Everything  has  two  handles :  one  by  which  it  may 
be  borne ;  another  by  which  it  cannot.  If  your 
brother  acts  unjustly,  do  not  lay  hold  on  the  affair  by 
the  handle  of  his  injustice ;  for  by  that  it  cannot  be 
borne:  but  rather  by  the  opposite,  that  he  is  your 
brother,  that  he  was  brought  up  with  you ;  and  thus 
you  will  lay  hold  on  it  as  it  is  to  be  borne. 

XLIV. 
These  reasonings  have  no  logical  connection:  "I 
am  richer  than  you ;  therefore  I  am  your  superior  " : 


THE   ENCHIEIDION.  395 

"  I  am  more  eloquent  than  you ;  therefore  I  am  your 
superior.''  The  true  logical  connection  is  rather 
this :  "  I  am  richer  than  you ;  therefore  my  posses- 
sions must  exceed  yours " :  "I  am  more  eloquent 
than  you ;  therefore  my  style  must  surpass  yours." 
But  you,  after  all,  consist  neither  in  property  nor  in 
style. 

XLV. 

Does  any  one  bathe  hastily  ?  Do  not  say,  that  he 
does  it  ill,  but  hastily.  Does  any  one  drink  much 
wine  ?  Do  not  say  that  he  does  ill,  but  that  he 
drinks  a  great  deal.  For  unless  you  perfectly  under- 
stand his  motives,  how  should  you  know  if  he  acts 
ill  ?  Thus  you  will  not  risk  yielding  to  any  appear- 
ances but  such  as  you  fully  comprehend. 

XLVI. 

Never  proclaim  yourself  a  philosopher ;  nor  make 
much  talk  among  the  ignorant  about  your  principles, 
but  show  them  by  actions.  Thus,  at  an  entertain- 
ment, do  not  discourse  how  people  ought  to  eat ;  but 
eat  as  you  ought.  For  remember  that  thus  Socrates 
also  universally  avoided  all  ostentation.  And  when 
persons  came  to  him,  and  desired  to  be  introduced 
by  him  to  philosophers,  he  took  them  and  introduced 
them ;  so  well  did  he  bear  being  overlooked.  So 
if  ever  there  should  be  among  the  ignorant  any 
discussion  of  principles,  be  for  the  most  part  silent. 
For  there  is  great  danger  in  hastily  throwing  out 
what  is  undigested.  And  if  any  one  tells  you  that 
you  know  nothing,  and  you  are  not  nettled  at  it,  then 
you  may  be  sure  that  you  have  really  entered  on  your 
work.  For  sheep  do  not  hastily  throw  up  the  grass, 
to  show  the  shepherds  how  much  they  have  eaten ; 


396  THE  ENCHIRIDION. 

but,  inwardly  digesting  their  food,  they  produce  it 
outwardly  in  wool  and  milk.  Thus,  therefore,  do 
you  not  make  an  exhibition  before  the  ignorant  of 
your  principles  ;  but*  of  the  actions  to  which  their 
digestion  gives  rise. 

xlvh. 
When  you  have  learned  to  nourish  your  body 
frugally,  do  not  pique  yourself  upon  it ;  nor,  if  you 
drink  water,  be  saying  upon  every  occasion,  "  I  drink 
water."  But  first  consider  how  much  more  frugal 
are  the  poor  than  we,  and  how  much  more  patient  of 
hardship.  But  if  at  any  time  you  would  inure  your- 
self by  exercise  to  labor  and  privation,  for  your  own 
sake  and  not  for  the  public,  do  not  attempt  great 
feats ;  but  when  you  are  violently  thirsty,  just  rinse 
your  mouth  with  water,  and  tell  nobody. 

XLVHI. 
The  condition  and  characteristic  of  a  vulgar  person 
is,  that  he  never  looks  for  either  help  or  harm  from 
himself,  but  only  from  externals.  The  condition  and 
characteristic  of  a  philosopher  is,  that  he  looks  to 
himself  for  all  help  or  harm.  The  marks  of  a  pro- 
ficient are,  that  he  censures  no  one,  praises  no  one, 
blames  no  one,  accuses  no  one  ;  says  nothing  concern- 
ing himself  as  being  anybody,  or  knowing  anything  • 
when  he  is  in  any  instance  hindered  or  restrained,  he 
accuses  himself;  and  if  he  is  praised,  he  smiles  to 
himself  at  the  person  who  praises  him ;  and  if  he  is 
censured,  he  makes  no  defence.  But  he  goes  about 
with  the  caution  of  a  convalescent,  careful  of  inter- 
ference with  anything  that  is  doing  well,  but  not 
yet  quite  secure.     He  restrains  desire ;  he  transfers 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  397 

his  aversion  to  those  things  only  which  thwart  the 
proper  use  of  our  own  will ;  he  employs  his  energies 
moderately  in  all  directions ;  if  he  appears  stupid  or 
ignorant,  he  does  not  care  ;  and,  in  a  word,  he  keeps 
watch  over  himself  as  over  an  enemy  and  one  in  am- 
bush. 

XLIX. 

When  any  one  shows  himself  vain,  on  being  able 
to  understand  and  interpret  the  works  of  Chrysippus, 
say  to  yourself:  "Unless  Chrysippus  had  written 
obscurely,  this  person  would  have  had  nothing  to  be 
vain  of.  But  what  do  I  desire  ?  To  understand 
Nature,  and  follow  her.  I  ask,  then,  who  interprets 
her;  and  hearing  that  Chrysippus  does,  I  have  re- 
course to  him.  I  do  not  understand  his  writings. 
I  seek,  therefore,  one  to  interpret  them"  So  far 
there  is  nothing  to  value  myself  upon.  And  when 
I  find  an  interpreter,  what  remains  is,  to  make  use 
of  his  instructions.  This  alone  is  the  valuable  thing. 
But  if  I  admire  merely  the  interpretation,  what  do  I 
become  more  than  a  grammarian,  instead  of  a  philos- 
opher? Except,  indeed,  that  instead  of  Homer  I 
interpret  Chrysippus.  When  any  one,  therefore,  de- 
sires me  to  read  Chrysippus  to  him,  I  rather  blush, 
when  I  cannot  exhibit  actions  that  are  harmonious 
and  consonant  with  his  discourse. 

L. 
Whatever  rules  you  have  adopted,  abide  by  them 
as  laws,  and  as  if  you  would  be  impious  to  transgress 
them ;  and  do  not  regard  what  any  one  says  of  you, 
for  this,  after  all,  is  no  concern  of  yours.  How  long, 
then,  will  you  delay  to  demand  of  yourself  the  no- 
blest improvements,  and  in  no  instance  to  transgress 


398  THE   ENCHIRIDION. 

the  judgments  of  reason?  You  have  received  the 
philosophic  principles  with  which  you  ought  to  be 
conversant ;  and  you  have  been  conversant  with  them. 
For  what  other  master,  then,  do  you  wait  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  this  delay  in  self-reformation  ?  You  are  no 
longer  a  boy,  but  a  grown  man.  If,  therefore,  you 
will  be  negligent  and  slothful,  and  always  add  pro- 
crastination to  procrastination,  purpose  to  purpose, 
and  fix  day  after  day  in  which  you  will  attend  to 
yourself,  you  will  insensibly  continue  to  accomplish 
nothing,  and,  living  and  dying,  remain  of  vulgar 
mind.  This  instant,  then,  think  yourself  worthy  of 
living  as  a  man  grown  up  and  a  proficient.  Let 
whatever  appears  to  be  the  best,  be  to  you  an  invio- 
lable law.  And  if  any  instance  of  pain  or  pleasure, 
glory  or  disgrace,  be  set  before  you,  remember  that 
now  is  the  combat,  now  the  Olympiad  comes  on,  nor 
can  it  be  put  off;  and  that  by  one  failure  and  defeat 
honor  may  be  lost  —  or  won.  Thus  Socrates  became 
perfect,  improving  himself  by  everything ;  following 
reason  alone.  And  though  you  are  not  yet  a  Socra- 
tes, you  ought,  however,  to  live  as  one  seeking  to  be 
a  Socrates. 

LI. 

The  first  and  most  necessary  topic  in  philosophy  is 
the  practical  application  of  principles ;  as,  We  ought 
not  to  lie :  the  second  is  that  of  demonstrations ;  as, 
Why  it  is  that  we  ought  not  to  lie:  the  third,  that 
which  gives  strength  and  logical  connection  to  the 
other  two  ;  as,  Why  this  is  a  demonstration.  For  what 
is  demonstration  ?  What  is  a  consequence  ?  What 
a  contradiction?  What  truth?  What  falsehood? 
The  third  point  is  then  necessary  on  account  of  the 
Becond ;  and  the  second  on  account  of  the  first.     But 


THE  ENCHIRIDION.  399 

the  most  necessary,  and  that  whereon  we  ought  to 
rest,  is  the  first.  But  we  do  just  the  contrary.  For 
we  spend  all  our  time  on  the  third  point,  and  employ 
all  our  diligence  about  that,  and  entirely  neglect  the 
first.  Therefore,  at  the  same  time  that  we  lie,  we 
are  very  ready  to  show  how  it  is  demonstrated  that 
lying  is  wrong. 

Ln 

Upon  all  occasions  we  ought  to  have  these  maxims 
ready  at  hand :  — 

Conduct  me,  Zeus,  and  thou,  O  Destiny, 
Wherever  your  decrees  have  fixed  my  lot. 
I  follow  cheerfully ;  and,  did  I  not, 
Wicked  and  wretched,  I  must  follow  still.* 

Whoe'er  yields  properly  to  Fate  is  deemed 

Wise  among  men,  and  knows  the  laws  of  Heaven.f 

And  this  third :  — 

"  0  Crito,  if  it  thus  pleases  the  gods,  thus  let  it 
be."  "  Anytus  and  Melitus  may  kill  me  indeed ; 
but  hurt  me  they  cannot." J 

*  Cleanthes,  in  Diogenes  Laertins,  quoted  also  by  Seneca,  Epis- 
tle 107.— H. 

t  Euripides,  Fragments.  —  H. 

t  Plato,  Crito,  §  17;  Apology,  §  18.  — H. 


FRAGMENTS    OF   EPICTETUS. 


FRAGMENTS  OF  EPICTETTJS 


STOB^EUS,   ANTONIUS,   AND    MAXIMUS.* 


I. 

A  LIFE  at  odds  with  Fortune  resembles  a  wintry 
torrent;   for  it  is  turbulent  and  muddy  and 
difficult  to  pass,  and  violent  and  noisy  and  brief. 

A  soul  conversant  with  virtue  resembles  a  perpet- 
ual fountain ;  for  it  is  clear  and  gentle  and  agreeable 
and  sweet  and  serviceable  and  rich  and  harmless 
and  innocent. 

n. 
If  you  would  be  good,  first  believe  that  you  are  bad. 

m. 

It  is  better  sometimes  frankly  to  offend,  and  act 
often  wisely,  than  to  say  we  seldom  err  and  offend 
frequently. 

IV. 

Chastise  your  passions,  that  they  may  not  chastise 
you. 

*  Stobseus  lived  early  in  the  fifth  century,  Maximus  in  the  sev- 
enth, and  Antonius,  surnamed  Melissa,  or  the  Bee,  in  the  eighth. 
Their  collections  are  printed  together.  Many  of  these  sayings  are 
merely  traditional.  —  H. 


.  404  FRAGMENTS. 

V. 

Be  not  so  much  ashamed  of  what  is  inglorious,  as 
studious  to  shun  what  is  untruthful. 

VI. 

If  you  would  be  well  spoken  of,  learn  to  speak  well 
of  others.  And  when  you  have  learned  to  speak  well, 
endeavor  likewise  to  do  well ;  and  thus  you  will  reap 
the  fruit  of  being  well  spoken  of. 

vn. 

Freedom  and  slavery  are  merely  names  of  virtue 
and  of  vice ;  and  both  these  are  matters  of  will.  But 
neither  of  them  belongs  to  things  in  which  will  has 
no  share.  But  Fortune  is  accustomed  to  dispose  at 
her  pleasure  of  the  body,  and  those  things  relating 
to  the  body  in  which  will  has  no  share.  For  no  one 
is  a  slave  whose  will  is  free. 

Fortune  is  an  evil  chain  to  the  body,  and  vice  to 
the  soul.  For  he  whose  body  is  unbound,  and  whose 
soul  is  chained,  is  a  slave.  On  the  contrary,  he 
whose  body  is  chained,  and  his  soul  unbound,  is  free. 
The  chain  of  the  body,  Nature  unbinds  by  death,  or 
baseness  for  money;  the  chain  of  the  soul,  virtue 
unbinds  by  wisdom  and  experience  and  philosophic 

training. 

vin. 

If  you  would  live  tranquil  and  contented,  endeavor 
that  all  who  live  with  you  may  be  good.  And  you 
can  have  them  good  by  instructing  the  willing  and 
dismissing  the  unwilling.  For  sin  and  bondage  will 
fly  with  those  who  leave  you,  and  with  those  who 
remain  with  you  will  virtue  and  liberty  be  left. 


FRAGMENTS.  405 

IX. 

It  is  scandalous,  that  he  who  sweetens  his  drink  by 
the  gift  of  the  bees,  should  by  vice  embitter  reason, 
the  gift  of  the  Gods. 

x. 

No  one  who  is  a  lover  of  money,  a  lover  of  pleas- 
ure, or  a  lover  of  glory,  is  likewise  a  lover  of  man- 
kind ;  but  only  he  who  is  a  lover  of  virtue. 

XI. 

As  you  would  not  wish  to  sail  in  a  large  and  ele- 
gant and  gilded  ship,  and  sink ;  so  neither  is  it  desir- 
able to  inhabit  a  grand  and  sumptuous  house,  and  be 
in  a  tumult. 

xn. 

When  we  are  invited  to  an  entertainment  we  take 
what  we  find ;  and  if  any  one  should  bid  the  master 
of  the  house  set  fish  or  tarts  before  him,  he  would  be 
thought  absurd.  Yet  in  the  world  we  ask  the  Gods 
for  what  they  do  not  give  us  ;  and  that,  though  there 
are  so  many  things  which  they  have  given  us. 

xni. 
They  are  pretty  fellows  indeed,  said  he,  who  value 
themselves  on  things  not  in  our  own  power.  I  am  a 
better  man  than  you,  says  one  ;  for  I  have  many  es- 
tates, and  you  are  pining  with  hunger.  I  have  been 
consul,  says  another ;  I  am  a  ruler,  says  a  third  ;  and 
I  have  a  fine  head  of  hair,  says  a  fourth.  Yet  one 
horse  does  not  say  to  another,  "  I  am  better  than 
you ;  for  I  have  a  great  deal  of  hay  and  a  great  deal 
of  oats ;  and  I  have  a  gold  bridle  and  embroidered 
trappings  "  ;  but  only,  "  I  am  swifter  than  you." 
And  every  creature  is  better  or  worse  from  its  own 


406  FRAGMENTS. 

good  or  bad  qualities.  Is  man,  then,  the  only  crea- 
ture which  has  no  natural  good  quality  ?  And  must 
we  take  account  of  hair,  and  clothes,  and  ancestors  ? 

XIV. 
Patients  are  displeased  with  a  physician  who  does 
not  prescribe  to  them ;  and  think  he  gives  them  over. 
And  why  are  none  so  affected  towards  a  philosopher 
as  to  conclude  that  he  despairs  of  their  recovery  to  a 
right  way  of  thinking,  if  he  tells  them  nothing  for 
their  good  ? 

XV. 

They  who  have  a  good  constitution  of  body  can 
bear  heat  and  cold;  and  so  they  who  have  a  right 
constitution  of  soul  can  meet  anger  and  grief  and 
immoderate  joy  and  the  other  passions. 

XVI. 
Examine  yourself,  whether  you  had  rather  be  rich 
or  happy ;  and  if  rich,  be  assured  that  this  is  neither 
a  good,  nor  altogether  in  your  own  power;  but  if 
happy,  that  this  is  both  a  good,  and  in  your  own 
power ;  since  the  one  is  a  temporary  loan  of  Fortune, 
and  the  other  depends  on  will. 

xvn. 
As  when  you  see  a  viper,  or  an  asp,  or  a  scorpion, 
in  a  box  of  ivory  or  gold,  you  do  not  love  it  or  think 
it  happy  because  of  the  magnificence  of  the  material 
in  which  it  is  enclosed ;  but  you  shun  and  detest  it, 
because  it  is  of  a  pernicious  nature:  so,  likewise, 
when  you  see  vice  lodged  in  the  midst  of  wealth,  and 
the  swelling  pride  of  fortune,  be  not  struck  by  the 
splendor  of  the  material  with  which  it  is  surrounded  ; 
but  despise  the  base  alloy  of  its  manners. 


FEAGMENTS.  407 

xvm. 

Riches  are  not  among  the  number  of  things  which 
are  good;  prodigality  is  of  the  number  of  those 
which  are  evil;  modesty  of  those  which  are  good. 
Now  modesty  invites  to  frugality  and  the  acquisition 
of  things  that  are  good ;  but  riches  invite  to  prodigal- 
ity and  seduce  from  modesty.  It  is  difficult,  there- 
fore, for  a  rich  person  to  be  modest,  or  a  modest  per- 
son rich. 

XIX. 

If  you  had  been  born  and  bred  in  a  ship,  you 
would  not  be  impatient  to  become  the  pilot.  For 
you  are  not  necessarily  identified  with  the  ship  there, 
nor  with  riches  here ;  but  with  reason  everywhere. 
That  therefore  which  is  natural  and  congenial  to  you, 
reason,  think  likewise  to  be  peculiarly  your  own,  and 
take  care  of^t. 

XX. 

If  you  were  born  in  Persia,  you  would  not  en- 
deavor to  live  in  Greece ;  but  to  be  happy  in  the 
place  where  you  were.  Why,  then,  if  you  are  born 
in  poverty,  do  you  yearn  to  be  rich,  and  not  rather 
to  be  happy  in  the  condition  where  you  are  ? 

XXL 

As  it  is  better  to  lie  straitened  for  room  upon  a 
little  couch,  in  health,  than  to  toss  upon  a  wide  bed  in 
sickness,  so  it  is  better  to  contract  yourself  within  the 
compass  of  a  small  fortune,  and  be  happy,  than  to 
have  a  great  one  and  be  wretched. 

xxn. 

It  is  not  poverty  that  causes  sorrow,  but  covetous 
desires  ;  nor  do  riches  deliver  from  fear,  but  only  rea- 


408  FRAGMENTS. 

soning.  If  therefore  you  acquire  a  habit  of  reason- 
ing, you  will  neither  desire  riches,  nor  complain  of 
poverty. 

xxni. 

A  horse  is  not  elated,  and  does  not  value  himself 
on  his  fine  stable  or  trappings  or  saddle-cloths,  nor  a 
bird  on  the  warm  materials  of  its  nest;  but  the 
former  on  the  swiftness  of  his  feet,  and  the  latter  of 
its  wings.  Do  not  you,  therefore,  glory  in  your  food 
or  dress ;  or  in  short  any  external  advantage  ;  but 
in  integrity  and  beneficence. 

XXIV. 

There  is  a  difference  between  living  well  and  living 
profusely.  The  one  arises  from  contentment  and 
order  and  propriety  and  frugality;  the  other  from 
dissoluteness  and  luxury  and  disorder  and  indecency. 
In  short,  to  the  one  belongs  true  praise  ;  to  the  other, 
censure.  If  therefore  you  would  live  well,  do  not 
seek  to  be  praised  for  profuseness. 

XXV. 

Let  the  first  satisfaction  of  appetite  be  always  the 
measure  to  you  of  eating  and  drinking ;  and  appetite 
itself  the  sauce  and  the  pleasure.  Thus  you  will 
never  take  more  than  is  necessary,  nor  will  you  want 
cooks ;  and  you  will  be  contented  with  whatever 
drink  falls  in  your  way. 

XXVI. 

Consider  that  you  do  not  thrive  merely  by  the  food 
in  your  stomach ;  but  by  the  elevation  of  your  soul. 
For  the  former,  as  you  see,  is  evacuated  and  carried 
off  altogether ;  but  the  latter,  though  the  soul  be 
parted,  remains  uncorrupted  through  all  things. 


FRAGMENTS.  409 

xxvn. 
In  every  feast  remember  that  there  are  two  guests 
to  be  entertained,  the  body  and  the* soul;  and  that 
what  you  give  the  body  you  presently  lose,  but  what 
you  give  the  soul  remains  forever. 

xx  vm. 
Do  not  mingle  anger  with  profusion,  and  set  them 
before  your  guests.  Profusion,  when  it  has  made 
its  way  through  the  body,  is  quickly  gone ;  but  an- 
ger, when  it  has  penetrated  the  soul,  abides  for  a 
long  time.  Take  care  not  to  pay  a  great  price 
merely  to  be  transported  with  anger,  and  affront 
your  guests;  but  rather  delight  them  at  a  cheap 
rate  by  gentle  behavior. 

XXIX. 

Take  care  at  your  meals  that  the  attendants  be 
not  more  in  number  than  those  whom  they  are  to 
attend.  For  it  is  absurd  that  many  persons  should 
wait  on  a  few  chairs. 


It  would  be  best  if,  both  while  you  are  personally 
making  your  preparations  and  while  you  are  feasting 
at  table,  you  could  give  among  the  servants  part  of 
what  is  before  you.  But  if  such  a  thing  be  difficult 
at  that  time,  remember  that  you,  who  are  not  weary, 
are  attended  by  those  who  are ;  you  who  are  eating 
and  drinking,  by  those  who  are  not ;  you  who  are 
talking,  by  those  who  are  silent;  you  who  are  at 
ease,  by  those  who  are  under  constraint:  and  thus 
you  will  never  be  heated  into  any  unreasonable  pas- 
sion yourself,  nor  do  any  mischief  by  provoking  an- 
other. 


410  FRAGMENTS. 

XXXI. 

Strife  and  contention  are  always  absurd,  but  par- 
ticularly unbecoming  at  table  conversations.  For  a 
person  warmed  with  wine  will  never  either  teach,  or 
be  convinced  by,  one  who  is  sober.  And  wherever 
sobriety  is  wanting,  the  end  will  show  that  you  have 
exerted  yourself  to  no  purpose. 

xxxn. 

Grasshoppers  are  musical;  but  snails  are  dumb. 
The  latter  rejoice  in  being  wet ;  and  the  former  in 
being  warm.  Then  the  dew  calls  out  the  one  race, 
and  for  this  they  come  forth ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
the  noonday  sun  awakens  the  others,  and  in  this  they 
sing.  If  therefore  you  would  be  a  musical  and  har- 
monious person,  whenever  the  soul  is  bedewed  with 
wine  at  drinking-parties,  suffer  her  not  to  go  forth 
and  defile  herself.  But  when  in  rational  society  she 
glows  by  the  beams  of  reason,  then  command  her  to 
speak  from  inspiration,  and  utter  the  oracles  of  justice. 

xxxni. 
Consider  him  with  whom  you  converse  in  one  of 
these  three  ways ;  either  as  your  superior,  or  inferior, 
or  equal.  If  superior,  you  ought  to  hear  him  and  be 
convinced  ;  if  inferior,  to  convince  him ;  if  equal,  to 
agree  with  him ;  and  thus  you  will  never  be  led  into 
the  love  of  strife. 

XXXIV. 

It  is  better,  by  yielding  to  truth,  to  conquer  preju- 
dice, than  by  yielding  to  principle  to  be  defeated  by 
truth. 

XXXV. 

If  you  seek  truth,  you  will  not  seek  merely  victory 


FRAGMENTS.  411 

at  all  hazards ;  and  when  you  have  found  truth,  you 
will  have  a  security  against  being  conquered. 


:vl 

Truth  conquers  by  itself;  prejudice,  by  appealing 
to  externals. 

xxxvn. 

It  is  better,  through  living  with  one  free  person,  to 
be  fearless  and  free,  than  to  be  a  slave  in  company 
with  many. 

xxxvin. 

What  you  avoid  suffering  yourself,  seek  not  to  im- 
pose on  others.  You  avoid  slavery,  for  instance  ; 
take  care  not  to  enslave.  For  if  you  can  bear  to 
exact  slavery  from  others,  you  appear  to  have  been 
yourself  a  slave.  For  vice  has  nothing  in  common 
with  virtue,  nor  freedom  with  slavery.  As  a  person 
in  health  would  not  wish  to  be  attended  by  the  sick, 
nor  to  have  those  who  live  with  him  in  a  state  of 
sickness ;  so  neither  would  a  person  who  is  free  bear 
to  be  served  by  slaves,  nor  to  have  those  who  live 
with  him  in  a  state  of  slavery. 

XXXIX. 

Whoever  you  are  that  would  live  apart  from  slaves, 
deliver  yourself  from  slavery.  And  you  will  be  free 
if  you  deliver  yourself  from  appetite.  For  neither 
was  Aristides  called  just,  nor  Epaminondas  divine, 
nor  Lycurgus  a  preserver,  because  they  were  rich 
and  slave-holders  ;  but  because,  being  poor,  they  de- 
livered Greece  from  slavery. 

XL. 

If  you  would  have  your^  house  securely  inhabited, 


412  FRAGMENTS. 

imitate  the  Spartan  Lycurgus.  And  as  he  did  not  en- 
close his  city  with  walls,  but  fortified  the  inhabitants 
with  virtue,  and  preserved  the  city  always  free ;  so 
do  you,  likewise,  not  surround  yourself  with  a  great 
court-yard,  nor  raise  high  towers,  but  strengthen 
those  who  live  with  you  by  benevolence,  and  fidelity, 
and  friendship.  And  thus  nothing  hurtful  will  enter, 
even  if  the  whole  band  of  wickedness  be  set  in  array 
against  it. 

XLI. 

Do  not  hang  your  house  round  with  tablets  and 
pictures ;  but  adorn  it  with  virtue.  For  those  are 
merely  foreign  and  a  fading  deception  of  the  eyes ; 
but  this,  a  congenial  and  indelible  and  perpetual  orna- 
ment to  the  house. 

XLII. 
Instead  of  herds  of  oxen,  endeavor  to  assemble 
flocks  of  friends  about  your  house. 

XLHL 
As  a  wolf  resembles  a  dog,  so  much  does  a  flatterer, 
an  adulterer,  a  parasite,  resemble  a  friend.   Take  heed 
therefore,  that  instead  of  guardian  dogs,  you  do  not 
inadvertently  admit  ravening  wolves. 

XLIV. 
To  seek  admiration  by  adorning  one's  house  with 
stucco  belongs  to  a  tasteless  man ;  but  to  adorn  our 
characters  by  the  charm  of  an  amiable  nature  shows 
at  once  a  lover  of  beauty  and  a  lover  of  man. 

XLV. 
If  you  chiefly  admire  little  things,  you  will  never 


FRAGMENTS.  413 

be  held  worthy  of  great  ones  ;  but  if  you  are  above 
little  things,  you  will  be  held  greatly  worthy. 

XLVI. 

Nothing  is  meaner  than  the  love  of  pleasure,  the 
love  of  gain,  and  insolence.  Nothing  is  nobler  than 
magnanimity,  meekness,  and  philanthropy. 

xlvh. 
[We  represent]  those  intractable  philosophers  who 
do  not  think  pleasure  to  be  in  itself  the  natural  state  of 
man ;  but  merely  an  incident  of  those  things  in  which 
his  natural  state  consists, — justice,  moderation,  and 
freedom.  Why,  then,  should  the  soul  rejoice  and 
be  glad  in  the  minor  blessings  of  the  body,  as  Epicu- 
rus says,  and  not  be  pleased  with  its  own  good,  which 
is  the  very  greatest  ?  And  yet  Nature  has  given  me 
likewise  a  sense  of  shame  ;  and  I  am  covered  with 
blushes  when  I  think  I  have  uttered  any  indecent 
expression.  This  emotion  will  not  suffer  me  to  recog- 
nize pleasure  as  a  good  and  the  end  of  life. 

XLVIII. 

The  ladies  at  Rome  have  Plato's  Republic  in  their 
hands,  because  he  allows  a  community  of  wives  ;  for 
they  attend  merely  to  the  words  of  the  author,  and 
not  to  his  sense.  For  he  does  not  first  order  one  man 
and  one  woman  to  marry  and  live  together,  and  then 
allow  a  community  of  wives  ;  but  he  abolishes  that 
system  of  marriage,  and  introduces  one  of  another 
kind.  And,  in  general,  men  are  pleased  in  finding 
out  excuses  for  their  own  faults.  Yet  philosophy 
says,  it  is  not  fit  even  to  move  a  finger  without  some 
reason. 


414  FRAGMENTS. 

XLIX. 

It  is  the  rarest  pleasures  which  especially  delight 
us. 

L. 

Once  exceed  moderation,  and  the  most  delightful 
things  may  become  the  most  undelightful. 

LI. 

Agrippinus  was  justly  entitled  to  praise  on  this 
account,  that,  though  he  was  a  man  of  the  highest 
Worth,  he  never  praised  himself;  but  blushed,  even 
if  another  praised  him.  And  he  was  a  man  of  such 
a  character,  as  to  commend  every  untoward  event 
that  befell  him :  if  he  was  feverish,  the  fever  ;  if  dis- 
graced, the  disgrace ;  if  banished,  the  banishment. 
And,  when  once,  as  he  was  going  to  dine,  a  messen- 
ger brought  him  word  that  Nero  ordered  him  to  ban- 
ishment ;  Well  then,  said  Agrippinus,  let  us  dine  at 
Aricia.* 

Ltt. 

Diogenes  affirmed  no  labor  to  be  good,  unless  the 
end  were  a  due  state  and  tone  of  the  soul,  and  not  of 
the  body. 

Llll. 

As  a  true  balance  is  neither  set  right  by  a  true  one, 
nor  judged  by  a  false  one  ;  so  likewise  a  just  person 
has  neither  to  be  set  right  by  just  persons,  nor  to  be 
judged  by  unjust  ones. 

LIV. 

As  what  is  straight  needs  no  straightness,  so  what 
is  just  needs  [to  borrow]  no  justice. 

*  £he  first  stage  on  his  journey  into  banishment.  See  note, 
ante,  p.  7. — H. 


FRAGMENTS.  415 

LV. 

Give  no  judgment  from  another  tribunal  before 
you  have  yourself  been  judged  at  the  tribunal  of  abso- 
lute justice. 

LVI. 
If  you  would  give  a  just  decision,  heed  neither  par- 
ties nor  pleaders,  but  the  cause  itself. 

Lvn. 
You  will  commit  the  fewest  faults  in  judging,  if 
you  are  faultless  in  your  own  life. 

LVIII. 

It  is  better,  by  giving  a  just  judgment,  to  be 
blamed  by  him  who  is  deservedly  condemned,  than 
by  giving  an  unjust  judgment,  to  be  justly  censured 
by  Nature. 

LIX. 
As  the  touchstone  which  tries  gold,  but  is  not 
itself  tried  by  the  gold;  such  is  he,  who  has  the 
standard  of  judgment. 

LX. 

It  is  scandalous  for  a  judge  .to  have  to  be  judged  by 
others. 

LXI. 

As  nothing  is  straighter  than  absolute  straightness, 
so  nothing  is  juster  than  absolute  justice. 

lxh. 
Who  among  you  does  not  admire  the  action  of 
Lycurgus  the  Lacedemonian?     For  when  he  had 
been  deprived  of  one  of  his  eyes  by  one  of  the  citi- 
zens, and  the  people  had  delivered  the  young  man  to 


416  FRAGMENTS. 

him,  to  be  punished  in  whatever  manner  he  should 
think  proper,  Lycurgus  forbore  to  give  him  any  pun- 
ishment. But  having  instructed  him,  and  rendered 
him  a  good  man,  he  brought  him  into  the  theatre ; 
and  while  the  Lacedemonians  were  struck  with  admi- 
ration :  "  I  received,"  said  he, "  this  person  from  you, 
dangerous  and  violent,  and  I  restore  him  to  you  gen- 
tle and  a  good  citizen." 

LXHI. 
When  Pittacus  had  been  unjustly  treated  by  some 
person,  and  had  the  power  of  chastising  him,  he  let 
him  go,  saying,  "  Forgiveness  is  better  than  punish- 
ment; for  the  one  is  the  proof  of  a  gentle,  the  other 
of  a  savage  nature." 

LXIV. 

This,  above  all,  is  the  business  of  nature,  to  con- 
nect and  apply  the  active  powers  to  what  appears  fit 
and  beneficial. 

LXV. 

It  is  the  character  of  the  most  mean-spirited  and 
foolish  men,  to  suppose  that  they  shall  be  despised  by 
others,  unless  they  somehow  strike  the  first  blow  at 
their  enemies. 

LXVI. 

When  you  are  going  to  attack  any  one  with  vehe- 
mence and  threatening,  remember  to  say  first  to 
yourself,  that  you  are  constituted  gentle,  and  that  by 
doing  nothing  violent,  you  will  live  without  the  need 
of  repentance,  and  irreproachable. 

Lxvn. 
We  ought  to  know  that  it  is  not  easy  for  a  man  to 
form  his  principles  of  action,  unless  he  daily  reiter- 


FRAGMENTS.  417 

ates  and  hears  the  same  things,  and  at  the  same  time 
applies  them  in  action. 

Lxvm. 

Nicias  was  so  intent  on  business,  that  he  often 
asked  his  domestics  whether  he  had  bathed,  and 
whether  he  had  dined. 

lxex. 

"While  Archimedes  was  intent  on  his  diagrams,  his 
servants  drew  him  away  by  violence,  and  anointed  * 
him,  and  after  his  body  was  anointed,  he  traced  his 
figures  upon  that. 

LXX. 

When  Lampis,  the  naval  commander,  was  asked 
how  he  acquired  wealth ;  he  answered,  that  great 
wealth  cost  but  little  trouble,  but  that  a  little  wealth 
[at  the  beginning]  cost  a  great  deal. 

LXXI. 

When  Solon  was  silent  at  an  entertainment,  and 
was  asked  by  Periander,  whether  he  was  silent  for 
want  of  words,  or  from  folly :  "  No  fool,"  answered 
he,  "  can  be  silent  at  a  feast." 

lxxii. 

Consult  nothing  so  much,  upon  every  occasion,  as 
discretion.  Now  it  is  more  discreet  to  be  silent  than 
to  speak ;  and  to  omit  speaking  whatever  is  not  ac- 
companied with  sense  and  reason. 

LXXIII. 
As  light-houses  in  harbors,  by  kindling  a  great 

•  The  ancients  anointed  the  hody  every  day.  —  C. 
27 


418  FRAGMENTS. 

flame  from  a  few  faggots,  afford  a  considerable  assist- 
ance to  ships  wandering  on  the  sea ;  so  an  illustrious 
person,  in  a  state  harassed  by  storms,  confers  great 
benefits  on  his  fellow-citizens,  when  himself  contented 
with  little. 

LXXIV. 

You  would  certainly,  if  you  undertook  to  steer  a 
ship,  learn  the  steersman's  art.  And  as  in  that  case, 
you  can  steer  the  whole  ship ;  so  in  another  case,  the 
whole  state. 

LXXV. 

If  you  have  a  mind  to  adorn  your  city  by  conse- 
crated monuments,  first  consecrate  in  yourself  the 
most  beautiful  monument,  —  of  gentleness,  and  jus- 
tice, and  benevolence. 

LXXVI. 

You  will  confer  the  greatest  benefits  on  your  city, 
not  by  raising  its  roofs,  but  by  exalting  its  souls. 
For  it  is  better  that  great  souls  should  live  in  small 
habitations,  than  that  abject  slaves  should  burrow  in 
great  houses. 

Lxxvn. 

Do  not  variegate  the  structure  of  your  walls  with 
Eubcean  and  Spartan  stone ;  but  adorn  both  the 
minds  of  the  citizens  and  of  those  who  govern  them 
by  the  Greek  culture.  For  cities  are  made  good  hab- 
itations by  the  sentiments  of  those  who  live  in  them, 
not  by  wood  or  stone. 

Lxxvm. 

As,  if  you  were  to  breed  lions,  you  would  not  be 
solicitous  about  the  magnificence  of  their  dens,  but 
about  the  qualities  of  the  animals  ;  so,  if  you  under- 
take to  preside  over  your  fellow-citizens,  be  not  so 


FRAGMENTS.  419 

solicitous  about  the  magnificence  of  the  buildings,  as 
careful  of  the  nobleness  of  those  who  inhabit  them 

LXXIX. 

As  a  skilful  manager  of  horses  does  not  feed  the 
good  colts,  and  suffer  the  unruly  ones  to  starve  ;  but 
feeds  them  both  alike,  chastising  the  one  more,  to 
make  him  draw  equally  with  his  fellow ;  so  a  man 
of  foresight  and  administrative  skill  endeavors  to  do 
good  to  the  well-disposed  citizens,  but  not  at  once  to 
destroy  those  that  are  otherwise.  He  by  no  means 
denies  subsistence  to  either  of  them  ;  only  he  disci- 
plines and  urges  on,  with  the  greater  vehemence, 
him  who  resists  reason  and  the  laws. 

LXXX. 

As  a  goose  is  not  alarmed  by  hissing,  nor  a  sheep 
by  bleating ;  so  neither  be  you  terrified  by  the  voice 
of  a  senseless  multitude. 

LXXXI. 

As  you  do  not  comply  with  a  multitude,  when  it 
unreasonably  asks  of  you  any  part  of  your  own  prop- 
erty ;  so  neither  be  disconcerted  before  a  mob,  de- 
manding of  you  any  unjust  compliance. 

LXXXII. 

Pay  in  advance  your  dues  to  the  public,  and  you 
will  never  be  asked  for  what  is  not  due. 

LXXXIII. 

As  the  sun  waits  not  for  prayers  and  incantations 
to  be  prevailed  on  to  rise,  but  immediately  shines 
forth,  and  is  received  with  universal  salutation ;  so 


420  FRAGMENTS. 

neither  do  you  wait  for  applauses  and  shouts  and 
praises  in  order  to  do  good ;  but  be  a  voluntary  bene- 
factor, and  you  will  be  beloved  like  the  sun. 

.    LXXXIV. 

A  ship  ought  not  to  be  held  by  one  anchor,  nor 
life  by  a  single  hope. 

LXXXV. 

We  ought  not  to  stretch  either  our  legs  or  our 
hopes  for  a  point  they  cannot  reach 

LXXXVI. 

Thales,  being  asked  what  was  the  most  universal 
possession,  answered,  "  Hope ;  for  they  have  it  who 
have  nothing  else." 

LXXXVII. 

It  is  more  necessary  for  the  soul  to  be  healed  than 
the  body  ;  for  it  is  better  to  die  than  to  live  ill. 

lxxxvih. 

Pyrrho  used  to  say,  "  There  is  no  difference  be- 
tween living  and  dying."  A  person  asked  him,  Why 
then  do  you  not  die  ?  "  Because,"  answered  Pyrrho, 
"  there  is  no  difference." 

lxxxix. 

Nature  is  admirable,  and,  as  Xenophon  says,  ava- 
ricious of  life.  Hence  we  love  and  tend  the  body, 
which  is  of  all  things  the  most  unpleasant  and  squal- 
id. For  if  we  were  obliged,  for  only  five  days,  to 
take  care  of  our  neighbor's  body,  we  would  not  en- 
dure it.  For  only  consider  what  it  would  be,  when 
we  rise  in  the  morning,  to  clean  the  teeth  of  others, 


FRAGMENTS.  421 

and  do  all  requisite  offices  besides.  In  reality,  it  is 
wonderful  that  we  should  love  a  thing  which  every 
day  demands  so  much  attendance.  I  stuff  this  sack, 
and  then  I  empty  it  again.  What  is  more  trouble- 
some ?  But  I  must  obey  God.  Therefore  I  remain, 
and  endure  to  wash  and  feed  and  clothe  this  poor 
body.  When  I  was  younger,  he  demanded  of  me 
still  more,  and  I  bore  it.  And  when  Nature,  which 
gave  the  body,  takes  it  away,  will  you  not  bear  that  ? 
"  I  love  it,"  say  you.  This  is  what  I  have  just  been 
observing ;  and  this  very  love  has  Nature  given  you, 
but  she  also  says,  "  Now  let  it  go,  and  have  no  fur- 
ther trouble." 

XC. 
When  a  young  man  dies,  some  one  blames  the 
Gods  that,  at  the  time  when  he  himself  ought  to  be  at 
rest,  he  is  still  encumbered  with  the  troubles  of  life. 
Yet  when  death  approaches,  he  wishes  to  live,  and 
sends  for  the  physician,  and  entreats  him  to  omit  no 
care  or  pains.  It  is  marvellous  that  men  should  not 
be  willing  either  to  live  or  die. 

XCI. 
To  a  longer  and  worse  life,  a  shorter  and  better  is 
by  all  means  to  be  preferred  by  every  one. 

XCII. 
When  we  are  children,  our  parents  deliver  us  to 
the  care  of  a  tutor ;  who  is  continually  to  watch  over 
us  that  we  get  no  hurt.  When  we  are  become  men, 
God  delivers  us  to  the  guardianship  of  an  implanted 
conscience.  We  ought  by  no  means,  then,  to  despise 
this  guardian ;  for  it  will  both  displease  God,  and  we 
shall  be  enemies  to  our  own  conscience. 


422  FRAGMENTS. 

XCIII. 

Riches  ought  to  be  used  as  the  means  to  some 
end,  and  not  lavished  on  every  occasion. 

XCIV. 
All  men  should  wish  rather  for  virtue  than  for 
wealth,  which  is  dangerous  to  the  foolish,  since  vice 
is  increased  by  riches.  And  in  proportion  as  any  one 
is  foolish,  he  becomes  the  more  profuse,  through  hav- 
ing the  means  of  gratifying  his  passion  for  pleasure. 

XCV. 
What  ought  not  to  be  done,  do  not  even  think  of 
doing. 

XCVL 
Deliberate  much  before  you  speak  or  act ;  for  what 
is  once  said  or  done  you  cannot  recall. 

XCVH. 
Every  place  is  safe  to  him  who  dwells  with  justice. 

XCVIIL 
Crows,  pick  out  the  eyes  of  the  dead,  when  they 
are  no  longer  of  any  use*     But  flatterers  destroy  the 
souls  of  the  living  by  blinding  their  eyes. 

XCIX. 
The  anger  of  a  monkey  and  the  threats  of  a  flat- 
terer deserve  equal  regard. 

c. 

Kindly  receive  those  who  are  willing  to  give  good 
advice ;  but  not  those  who  upon  every  occasion  are 
eager  to  flatter.     For  the  former  truly  see  what  is 


FRAGMENTS.  423 

advantageous ;  but  the  latter  consider  only  the  opin- 
ions of  their  superiors  ;  and  imitate  the  shadows  of 
bodies,  nodding  assent  to  what  they  say. 

CI. 

An  adviser  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  have  a  re- 
gard to  the  delicacy  and  sense  of  shame  of  the  person 
admonished.  For  they  who  are  beyond  blushing  are 
incorrigible. 

CII. 

It  is  better  to  advise  than  reproach  ;  for  the  one  is 
mild  and  friendly,  the  other  stern  and  severe ;  the 
one  corrects  the  erring,  the  other  only  convicts  them. 

cm. 
Impart  to  strangers  and  persons  in  need  according 
to  your  ability.     For  he  who  gives  nothing  to  the 
needy  shall  receive  nothing  in  his  own  need. 

CIV. 
A  person  once  brought  clothes  to  a  pirate,  who 
had  been  cast  ashore,  and  almost  killed  by  the  sever- 
ity of  the  weather ;  then  carried  him  to  his  house, 
and  furnished  him  with  all  necessaries.  Being  re- 
proached by  some  one  for  doing  good  to  the  evil ;  "  I 
have  paid  this  regard,"  answered  he,  "  not  to  the 
man,  but  to  humanity. " 

CV. 

We  ought  not  to  choose  every  pleasure ;  but  that 
whose  end  is  good. 

CVL 

It  belongs  to  a  wise  man  to  resist  pleasure  ;  and  to 
a  fool  to  be  enslaved  by  it. 


424  FRAGMENTS. 

CVII. 
In  all  vice,  pleasure,  being  presented  like  a  bait, 
draws  sensual  minds  to  the  hook  of  perdition. 

cvm. 

Choose  rather  to  punish  your  appetites  than  to  be 
punished  by  them. 

CIX. 
No  one  is  free  who  commands  not  himself. 

ex. 

The  vine  bears  three  clusters ;  the  first  of  pleasure, 
the  second  of  intoxication,  the  third  of  outrage. 

CXI. 
Do  not  talk  much  over  wine  to  show  your  learn- 
ing ;  for  your  discourse  will  be  unpleasing. 

cxn. 
He  is   a  drunkard  who  takes  more  than  three 
glasses ;  and  though  he  be  not  drunk,  he  has  ex- 
ceeded moderation. 

CXTTT. 

Let  discourse  of  God  be  renewed  every  day  more 
surely  than  our  food. 

CXIV. 
Think  of  God  oftener  than  you  breathe. 

cxv. 

If  you  always  remember  that  God  stands  by  as  a 
witness  of  whatever  you  do,  either  in  soul  or  body, 
you  will  never  err,  either  in  your  prayers  or  actions, 
and  you  will  have  God  abiding  with  you. 


FRAGMENTS.  425 

CXVI. 

As  it  is  pleasant  to  view  the  sea  from  the  shore,  so 
it  is  pleasant  to  one  who  has  escaped,  to  remember 
his  past  labors. 

CXVII. 

Law  aims  to  benefit  human  life  ;  but  it  cannot, 
when  men  themselves  choose  to  suffer,  for  it  mani- 
fests its  proper  virtue  on  condition  of  obedience. 

cxvm. 
As  physicians  are  the  preservers  of  the  sick,  so  are 
the  laws,  of  the  injured. 

CXTX. 

The  justest  laws  are  the  truest. 

cxx. 
It  is  decent  to  yield  to  a  law,  to  a  ruler,  and  to  a 
wiser  man. 

CXXI. 

Things  done  contrary  to  law  are  to  be  regarded  as 
undone. 

cxxn. 
In  prosperity  it  is  very  easy  to  find  a  friend  ;  in  ad- 
versity, nothing  is  so  difficult. 

CXXIH. 
Time  delivers  fools  from  grief;  and  reason,  wise 
men. 

CXXIV. 
He  is  a  man  of  sense  who  does  not  grieve  for  what 
he  has  not,  but  rejoices  in  what  he  has. 


426  FRAGMENTS. 

CXXV. 

Epictetus  being  asked  how  a  person  might  grieve 
his  enemy,  answered,  "  By  doing  as  well  as  possible 
himself." 

CXXVI. 

Let  no  wise  man  estrange  himself  from  the  govern- 
ment of  the  state  ;  for  it  is  both  wicked  to  withdraw 
from  being  useful  to  the  needy,  and  cowardly  to  give 
way  to  the  worthless.  For  it  is  foolish  to  choose 
rather  to  be  governed  ill  than  to  govern  well. 

CXXVII. 

Nothing  is  more  becoming  a  ruler,  than  to  despise 
no  one,  nor  be  insolent,  but  to  preside  over  all  impar- 
tially. 

cxxvm. 

Any  person  may  live  happy  in  poverty,  but  few  in 
wealth  and  power.  So  great  is  the  advantage  of  pov- 
erty, that  no  wise  man  would  exchange  it  for  disrepu- 
table wealth ;  unless  indeed  Themistocles,  the  son  of 
Neocles,  the  most  wealthy  of  the  Athenians,  but  poor 
in  virtue,  was  better  than  Aristides  and  Socrates. 
But  both  himself  and  his  wealth  are  perished,  and 
without  a  name.  For  a  bad  man  loses  all  in  death  ; 
but  virtue  is  eternal. 

CXXIX. 

[Remember]  that  such  is,  and  was,  and  will  be,  the 
nature  of  the  world,  nor  is  it  possible  that  things 
should  be  otherwise  than  they  now  are  ;  and  that  not 
only  men  and  other  creatures  upon  earth  partake 
of  this  change  and  transformation,  but  diviner  things 
also.  For  indeed  even  the  four  elements  are  trans- 
formed and  metamorphosed ;  and  earth  becomes  wa- 


FBAGMENTS.  42T 

ter,  and  water  air,  and  this  again  is  transformed 
into  other  things.  And  the  same  manner  of  trans- 
formation happens  from  things  above  to  those  below. 
Whoever  endeavors  to  turn  his  mind  towards  these 
points,  and  persuade  himself  to  receive  with  willing- 
ness what  cannot  be  avoided,  will  pass  his  life  in 
moderation  and  harmony. 

cxxx. 

He  who  is  discontented  with  things  present  and 
allotted,  is  unskilled  in  life.  But  he  who  bears  them, 
and  the  consequences  arising  from  them,  nobly  and 
rationally,  is  worthy  to  be  esteemed  a  good  man. 

CXXXI. 

All  things  serve  and  obey  the  [laws  of  the]  uni- 
verse ;  the  earth,  the  sea,  the  sun,  the  stars,  and  the 
plants  and  animals  of  the  earth.  Our  body  likewise 
obeys  the  same,  in  being  sick  and  well,  young  and 
old,  and  passing  through  the  other  changes  decreed. 
It  is  therefore  reasonable  that  what  depends  on  our- 
selves, that  is,  our  own  understanding,  should  not  be 
the  only  rebel.  For  the  universe  is  powerful  and 
superior,  and  consults  the  best  for  us  by  governing 
us  in  conjunction  with  the  whole.  And  further; 
opposition,  besides  that  it  is  unreasonable,  and  pro- 
duces nothing  except  a  vain  struggle,  throws  us  into 
pain  and  sorrows. 


428  FRAGMENTS. 


The  following  Fragments  are  ascribed  jointly  to 
Epictetus  and  other  authors. 

I. 

Moderation,  as  it  is  a  short  and  agreeable  way, 
brings  much  delight  and  little  trouble. 

II. 

Fortify  yourself  with  moderation;  for  this  is  an 
impregnable  fortress. 

m. 

Prefer  nothing  to  truth,  not  even  the  choicest 
friendship,  since  this  borders  on  those  passions  by 
which  justice  is  both  confounded  and  darkened. 

IV. 
Truth  is  an  immortal  and  an  eternal  thing.  It 
bestows  not  a  beauty  which  time  will  wither,  nor  a 
courage  which  may  quail  before  a  human  tribunal ; 
but  only  things  just  and  lawful,  from  which  it  di- 
vides and  destroys  all  that  is  unjust. 

V. 
We  should  have  neither  a  blunt  sword  nor  a  point- 
less speech. 

VI. 

Nature  has  given  man  one  tongue,  but  two  ears, 
that  we  may  hear  twice  as  much  as  we  speak. 

vn. 

Nothing  is  in  reality  either  pleasant  or  unpleasant 
by  nature ;  but  all  things  become  such  through  habit. 


FRAGMENTS.  429 

VIII. 

Choose  the  best  life ;  for  habit  will  make  it  pleasant. 

IX. 

Choose  rather  to  leave  your  children  well  instruct- 
ed than  rich.  For  the  hopes  of  the  wise  are  better 
than  the  riches  of  the  ignorant. 

X. 

A  daughter  is  to  a  father  a  possession  which  is  not 
his  own. 

XI. 

The  same  person  advised  to  bequeath  modesty  to 
children,  rather  than  gold. 

XII. 

The  reproof  of  a  father  is  an  agreeable  medicine ; 
for  the  profit  is  greater  than  the  pain. 

XIII. 
He  who  is  fortunate  in  a  son-in-law,  finds  a  son  ;  he 
who  is  unfortunate  in  one,  loses  likewise  a  daughter. 

XIV. 

The  worth  of  instruction,  like  that  of  gold,  passes 
current  in  every  place. 

XV. 

He  who  cultivates  wisdom  cultivates  the  knowl- 
edge of  God. 

XVI. 
There  is  no  creature  so  beautiful  as  a  man  adorned 
by  instruction. 


430  FRAGMENTS. 

xvn. 
We  ought  to  flee  the  friendship  of  the  wicked,  and 
the  enmity  of  the  good. 

xvni. 
Misfortunes  test  friends,  and  detect  enemies. 

xix. 
We  ought  to  do  well  by  our  friends,  when  they  are 
present ;  and  speak  well  of  them,  when  they  are  ab- 
sent. 

XX. 

Let  him  not  think  himself  loved  by  any,  who  loves 
none. 

XXI. 

We  ought  to  choose,  both  for  a  physician  and  for  a 
friend,  not  the  most  agreeable,  but  the  most  useful. 

XXIT. 

If  you  would  lead  a  life  without  sorrow,  regard 
things  which  will  happen,  as  if  they  had  already 
happened. 

xxm. 

Be  exempt  from  grief ;  not  like  irrational  creatures, 
from  insensibility,  nor  from  inconsiderateness,  like 
fools ;  but  like  a  man  of  virtue,  making  reason  the 
remedy  for  grief. 

XXIV. 

They  whose  minds  are  the  least  grieved  by  calami- 
ties, and  who  best  meet  them  in  action,  are  the  great- 
est both  in  public  and  in  private  life. 

XXV. 

They  who  aro  well  instructed,  like  those  who  are 


FRAGMENTS.  431 

exercised  in  the  Palaestra,  if  they  happen  to  fall  quick- 
ly and  dexterously  rise  again  from  misfortunes. 

XXVI. 

We  ought  to  call  in  reason,  like  a  good  physician, 
to  our  assistance  in  misfortune. 

XXVII. 

Too  much  intoxication  from  good  fortune,  as  from 
drinking,  makes  a  fool  more  senseless. 

xxvm. 
Envy  is  the  adversary  of  the  fortunate. 

XXIX. 

He  who  remembers  what  man  is,  can  be  discon- 
tented at  nothing  which  happens. 

XXX. 

A  pilot  and  a  fair  wind  are  necessary  to  a  happy 
voyage ;  reason  and  art,  to  a  happy  life. 

XXXI. 

Of  good  fortune,  as  of  ripe  fruit,  we  must  make  the 
most  while  it  lasts. 

xxxn. 

He  is  unreasonable  who  quarrels  with  events  which 
happen  from  natural  necessity. 


432  FRAGMENTS. 


The  following  Fragments  are  omitted  by  Mr.  Upton  ;  but 
as  they  stand  under  the  name  of  Arrian,  and  seem 
to  be  in  the  spirit  of  Upictetus,  they  are  added  here. 


*  TTTHAT  does  it  signify  to  me,  said  he,  whether 
▼  f  the  universe  is  composed  of  atoms  or  uncom- 
pounded  substances,  —  or  of  fire  and  earth  ?  Is  it  not 
sufficient  to  know  the  essence  of  good  and  evil,  and 
the  proper  bounds  of  the  desires  and  aversions,  and 
of  the  active  powers  ;  and  by  making  use  of  theso  as 
so  many  certain  rules,  to  order  the  conduct  of  life, 
and  let  go  these  things  which  are  above  us ;  which, 
perhaps,  are  incomprehensible  to  human  understand- 
ing, but  if  one  should  suppose  them  ever  so  com- 
prehensible, are  still  of  doubtful  benefit  when  com- 
prehended. And  must  it  not  be  said  that  he  gives 
himself  trouble  to  no  purpose  who  attributes  these 
things  as  essential  to  the  character  of  a  philosopher  ? 
"  What,  then,  is  the  Delphic  admonition,  Know  thy- 
self,  superfluous  ?  "  "  No,  surely,"  said  he.  "  What, 
then,  does  it  mean  ?  "  If  any  one  should  admonish  a 
performer  in  a  chorus  to  know  himself,  would  he  not 
take  it  as  a  hint  to  improve  his  motions  ? 

II. 

f  The  same  person  being  asked,  "  Wherein  do  the 
diligent  have  the  advantage  of  the  slothful  ? "  an- 
swered, "  Wherein  the  pious  have  the  advantage  of 
the  impious  :  —  in  good  hopes." 

*  Stoboeus  de  Diis.     Serm.  211,  p.  714,  ed.  Francof.,  1581.  —  C. 
t  Maximus,  ircp\  (PiKorrovias.     Serm.  118,  p.  374.  —  C. 


FRAGMENTS.  483 

DEL 

*  Walls  give  to  cities,  and  education  to  minds, 
ornament  and  security. 

IV. 

f  When  a  young  man  was  giving  himself  airs  in  a 
public  place,  and  saying,  that  he  had  grown  wise  by 
conversing  with  many  wise  men :  "  I  have  conversed 
too,"  answered  somebody,  "with  many  rich  men,  but 
I  have  not  grown  rich." 


$  Socrates,  being  sent  for  by  Archelaus,  as  design- 
ing to  make  him  a  rich  man,  returned  him  this  an- 
swer :  "  Four  quarts  of  meal  are  sold  at  Athens  for 
five  denarii,  and  the  fountains  run  with  water.  If 
what  I  have  is  not  sufficient  for  me,  yet  I  am  suffi- 
ciently able  to  make  a  shift  with  that;  and  thus  it 
becomes  sufficient  for  me.  Do  you  not  perceive  that  it 
makes  no  difference  in  the  goodness  of  Polus's  voice, 
whether  he  performs  the  part  of  (Edipus  in  his  re- 
gal state,  or  whether  he  is  a  wanderer  and  a  beggar 
at  Colonus  ?  And  shall  a  brave  man  appear  worse 
than  Polus,  and  not  perform  well  in  whatever  part  is 
imposed  upon  him  by  the  Deity  ?  Shall  he  not  imi- 
tate Odysseus,  who  made  no  worse  figure  in  rags 
than  in  a  fine  purple  robe  ?  " 

*  Ant.  and  Max.  de  Disciplina.     Serm.  210,  p.  704.  —  C. 
t  Ibid.  —  C. 

t  Stobaeus,    Compar.   Paupertatis  et  Divitiarum.       Serm.   237,   p. 
778.  — C. 


434  FRAGMENTS. 

VI. 

*  There  are  some  persons  who  are  calmly  of  a  high 
spirit,  and  do  all  the  same  things  quietly,  and  as  it 
were  without  anger,  which  those  do  who  are  hurried 
with  strong  passion.  We  are  to  guard,  therefore, 
against  the  faults  of  such  persons,  as  being  much 
worse  than  those  of  violent  anger.  For  people  of  the 
latter  character  are  quickly  satiated  with  vengeance ; 
whereas  the  others,  like  persons  in  a  slow  fever,  ex- 
tend the  excitement  over  a  longer  time. 

*  Stobseus,  Quod  Eventus,  &c.,  pp.  324,  329.  —  C. 


INDEX. 


Academics,  deny  the  evidence  of 
the  senses,  166. 

Adultery  reproved,  102. 

Affection,  not  inconsistent  with  rea- 
son, 34 — how  to  be  regulated,  274. 

Agrippinus,  his  behavior  about  his 
trial,  6  —  his  answer  to  Florus,  9. 

Anger  reproved,  153. 
u     Antipater,  153,  157,  199. 

Appearances  to  the  mind,  a  right 
use  of  them  in  our  own  power,  4 

—  the  standard  of  action,  80. 
Archedemus,  103,  153, 158,  199. 

Beauty,  human,  consists  in  human 

excellence,  190. 
Body   dependent    on   externals,    4, 

248,  302  —  clay,  4,  249,  304  —  our 

last  garment,  72  —  compared  to 

an  ass,  301. 

Caution  consistent  with  courage,  93 

—  necessary  in  things  dependent 
on  will,  93,  99. 

Character  to  be  preserved,  7, 100. 
Chrysippus,  14,  109,  153,  158,  199, 

241,  277. 
Cleanthes,  157,  257,  287,  309,  316, 

325,  399. 
Complaisance,  317. 
Common  sense,  what,  208. 
Company  a  festival,  42. 
Conceit  reproved,  124,  148,  229. 
Contentment  recommended,  6,  29, 

320,  341. 
Crates,  252. 

Death  to  be  encountered  cheerfully, 
6  —  a  restitution  of  what  is  not 
our  own,  7  — no  evil,  30,  68,  77, 
116,  121,  159  — a  mask,  95  — a 
return  to  the  elements,  227,  341  — 
only  the  separation  of  soul  and 
body,  220,  247,  279  —  not  terrible, 
377  —  to  be  placed  continually  be- 
fore our  eyes,  383. 


Demetrius,  his  speech  to  Nero,  72. 

Desires  in  our  own  power,  4,  98,  375 
—  are  to  be  restrained  by  a  be- 
ginner in  philosophy,  13,  228,  244, 
322,  375. 

Determinations  not  to  be  kept,  139. 

Difficulties,  their  use,  67. 

Diffidence,  faulty,  reproved,  229. 

Diogenes  taken  for  a  spy,  68,  246  — 
his  answer  to  one  who  desired  rec- 
ommendatory letters,  101  —  taken 
by  pirates,  134  —  his  behavior  in 
a  fever,  251  —  his  quickness  in 
repartee,  256  —  his  love  of  man, 
274  —  his  notion  of  freedom,  274, 
293,  312,  381. 

Discontent  reproved,  21,  42,  142, 
304,  322,  405. 

Discourse,  indecent,  to  be  avoided, 
391. 

Distrust  in  Providence  reproved,  29, 
284. 

Divination,  ill  effects  of  an  unreason- 
able regard  to  it,  111  —  the  proper 
disposition  in  applying  to  it,  388. 

Duty,  filial,  recommended,  212,  386. 

Education,  why  necessary,  8  —  what 
the  Stoics  meant  by  it,  96. 

Egotism  to  be  avoided,  391. 

Elocution  the  gift  of  God,  177  —  use- 
ful, but  not  principally  so,  180. 

Envy  reproved,  117. 

Epaphroditus,  5,  59,  75. 

Epicurus  placed  the  good  of  man  in 
body,  62,  66,  209— forbade  mar- 
riage, and  the  care  of  children, 
and  engaging  in  the  service  of  the 
public,  66,  211  —  denied  the  nat- 
ural relation  of  mankind  to  each 
other,  162  —  taught  irreligion  and 
injustice,  164  —  did  not  pronounce 
stealing  to  be  evil,  210  —  his  prin- 
ciples wicked,  210. 

Error,  all,  involuntary,  52,  54,  188, 
394. 


436 


INDEX. 


Eternals  not  in  our  own  power,  65, 
104,  142  —  materials  for  the  will, 
83  —  not  to  be  treated  carelessly, 
104. 

Euphrates,  the  philosopher,  231, 348. 

Evil  consists  in  a  perverted  will,  93 
—  a  mere  negation,  386. 

Familiarity  to  be  combined  with 
caution,  232,  317. 

Fates,  43. 

Fearlessness,  339. 

Floras,  9. 

Freedom,  41,  274,  293,  312. 

Friendship  to  be  met  with  only  in 
prudence  and  virtue,  171,  405  — 
impossible  in  a  bad  man,  171. 

Galba,  235. 

Galileans,  340. 

God  the  universal  Father  and  Cre- 
ator, 12,  28,  116,  267  —  is  omni- 
present and  omniscient,  45, 136  — 
neglects  not  the  smallest  things, 
281  —  our  faculties  and  abilities 
His  gift,  22,  177  —  wherein  con- 
sists His  essence,  113  —  makes 
revelations  to  mankind,  196  —  the 
Author  of  all  we  enjoy,  48,  177, 
304  —  dependence  on  Him  recom- 
mended, 161  —  to  be  thanked  for 
the  instructions  we  receive  from 
wise  and  good  men,  17  —  for  moral 
improvement,  155  —  proposed  to 
our  imitation.  See  Imitation. — 
Made  all  men  to  be  happy,  and 
hath  put  happiness  in  our  own 
power,  83,  265  —  to  be  consulted 
in  our  undertakings,  250. 

God.    See 'Zeus. 

Gods,  different  opinions  concerning 
them,  40. 

Good  to  be  sought  from  ourselves, 
83 — the  universal  motive  of  ac- 
tion, 246  —  in  our  own  power, 
83,  201  —  consists  in  will,  91,  141, 
178,  220  — not  in  externals,  237, 
246. 

Grief,  rebellion  against  God,  265. 

Health,  not  a  good,  220,  238. 

Helvidius  Priscus,  9. 

Hermes  (rod  of),  239. 

Hippocrates,  28. 

Humility  recommended,  890,  403. 

Imitation  of  God,  136,  147  —  of  good 

men,  155,  160,  891. 
Improvement,  in  what  to  be  sought, 

18,  207. 


Industry,  wherein  it  consists,  322. 
Italicus,  215. 

Lateranus,  Plautus,  5. 
Laughter  restricted,  390. 
Law  (divine),  what,  145,  221,  271. 
Lesbius,  240. 

Life  a  thing  indifferent,  108. 
Logic,  its  use,  23,  51. 
Love,  consistent  only  with  wisdom, 
171. 

Man,  a  spectator  and  interpreter  of 
the  works  of  God,  19  —  not  made 
for  an  inactive  life,  33  —  his  good 
consists  in  a  due  regulation  of  the 
will,  28,  70  —  is  possessed  of  free 
will,  53,  58  —  part  of  a  common- 
wealth, 107,  120,  340  —  how  pre- 
served and  how  destroyed,  117  — 
his  end  to  follow  God,  92  —  form- 
ed to  change  his  abode,  265  —  his 
nature  gentle,  sociable,  and  faith-  # 
ful,  330  —  man  not  the  master  of 
man,  307. 

Marriage  inconsistent  with  the  Cynic 
profession,  252  —  recommended, 
211,  240. 

Master,  who,  90,  101,  380. 

Maximus,  209. 

Money  not  a  good,  141. 

Neatness  recommended,  197,  361. 
Nero,  6,  9. 

Ostentation  reproved,  224,  228,  269, 
282,  395,  396. 

Patience  the  gift  of  God),  21,  143, 
214. 

Philosophers,  what  they  ought  to 
studv,  7,  61,  135,  219  — how  treat- 
ed, 128,  215,  383. 

Plato,  28,  148,  155,  413. 

Pleasure  not  a  good,  126  —  an  attend- 
ant on  virtue,  210. 

Polemo,  192. 

Poverty  not  an  evil,  234,  333. 

Prayer  recommended,  155,  241. 

Principles  not  dependent  on  exter- 
nals, 126  —  the  supreme  rule  of 
action,  54,  215. 

Providence,  instances  of  its  wisdom 
and  goodness,  49,  305  —  those  in- 
stances proof  of  a  God,  id.  —  gives 
the  best  things  to  the  best  men, 
234. 

Pseudomenos,  152. 

Pyrrhonists  ridiculed,  76. 


INDEX. 


437 


Quarrelling  reproved,  327. 

Reason,  divine,  66  —  contemplates 

itself,  61. 
Resignation  recommended,  4,  147, 

304. 
Revenge  reproved,  123. 
Riches  not  a  good,  406,  407. 
Rufus,  208,  235,  263— his  answer  to 

Thraseas,  6  —  to  Epictetus,  26. 

Sceptics  ridiculed,  78. 

Self-interest  the  universal  motive  of 
action,  59  —  natural,  65,  173  — 
the  ground  of  piety,  77,  174, 
387. 

Servants,  humanity  to  them,  409. 

Shame  (false)  reproved,  271,  285. 

Sickness  not  an  evil,  239  —  no  im- 
pediment to  the  mind,  379. 

Socrates,  his  resignation  to  the 
divine  will,  16  —  a  citizen  of  the 
world,  28  —  his  speech  to  his 
judges,  31,  193,  263  — began  by 
the  examination  of  words,  62  — 
always  preserved  the  same  coun- 
tenance, 73  —  forbids  an  unexam- 
ined life,  76,  224  —  his  excuse  of 
the  jailer,  91  —  whether  he  wrote 
anything,  97  —  his  pleasantry  at 
his  trial,  105  —  wrote  hymns  in 
prison,  111  — made  his  opponent 
bear  witness  to  him,  127,  189  — 
his  chastity,  155  —  never  provok- 
ed in  a  dispute,  128  —  never  quar- 
relled, nor  suffered  others  to  quar- 
rel, 327  —  author  of  confutation, 
229  —  his  modesty,  262,  349  —  his 
neatness,  362  —  his  courage,  314 
—  in  what  manner  he  loved  his 
children,  274,  314  —  disobeyed  the 
thirty  tyrants,  314  —  died  only  as 


to  his  body,  85  —  his  answer  when 
advised  to  prepare  for  his  trial,  99 
—  to  Crito,  314. 

Solitude  a  state  of  repose  and  free- 
dom, 42,  324  —  to  be  rendered 
agreeable  by  contemplation  and 
dependence  on  God,  225. 

Soul,  a  portion  of  the  divine  es- 
sence, 46,  53, 114  —  never  willing- 
ly deprived  of  truth,  79,  176. 

Spartans,  7,  416. 

Superfluities  to  be  avoided,  393. 

Sura,  234. 

Taking  pains,  365. 

Thanksgiving  recommended,  4,  17, 

40,  50,  177,  206,  321,  341. 
Thraseas,  6. 

Vanity  reproved,  378,  394,  397,  405. 

Vespasian,  10. 

Vulgar  minds  to  be  avoided,  233, 

390  —  difference    between    them 

and  a  philosopher,  396. 

Will  uncontrollable  even  by  Zeus, 
6  —  incapable  of  restraint,  53,  65, 
237  —  in  our  own  hands,  104  —  is 
virtue  and  vice,  happiness  and 
unhappiness,  178. 

Women,  for  what  to  be  esteemed, 
393. 

World,  a  system  composed  of  men 
and  God,  29  —  one  great  city,  266, 
273  —  has  a  Governor,  138. 

Worship     (divine)     recommended, 

212,  287. 

Zeno,  62,  132,  242,  347,  391. 

Zeus,  4,  5,  6,  22,  43,  77, 115,  201,  204, 

213,  222,  225,  250,  255,  257,  267 
309,  350. 


THE   END. 


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